


Featherlight Taction

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bonding, Drama, Explicit Language, Gen, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Spoilers, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-26
Updated: 2007-08-23
Packaged: 2018-10-01 09:03:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 63,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: The sensation of touch is one that is taken for granted, but for those who are trapped in a harsh war, the act of taction is can result in the revelation of one’s own true face. Quite literally. HarryVoldemort. SLASH. NOT OOC. HBP compliant.





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Full Summary: The sensation of touch is one that is taken for granted, but for those who are trapped in a harsh war, the act of taction is can result in the revelation of one’s own true face; quite literally. When Harry’s connection to Voldemort through his scar becomes even more powerful, he begins to have dreams of a man he does not recognize, yet these dreams still bring upon the pain of Lord Voldemort. In his search for the remaining horcruxes, Harry has an accident that will alter his life forever; because now when the Dark Lord touches him, Tom Riddle surfaces on his skin.**

**Explanations: Okay, so pretty much, to spoil a bit, but not too much, whenever Harry and Voldemort touch skin to skin, Voldemort no longer looks like the snake-like being of the 4th and 5th movies, but Tom Riddle, a normal man. THIS TOM RIDDLE IS NOT THE ONE FROM THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS. He looks like Ralph Fiennes, adult Voldemort’s actor.**

**No, this won’t be right away slash, but IT IS SLASH between Voldemort and Harry, so if you don’t like that, leave.**

**I got the inspiration for this randomly after seeing the Order of the Phoenix, and yes, this story is Half Blood Prince compliant. Harry WILL be searching for the horcruxes and it won’t just be about him and Moldy Voldie.**

**And if you think that Harry and Voldemort together is an impossible task to actually accomplish with both of them in complete character and almost complete canon (lol), then think again. I may butcher Rowling’s heterosexual wizarding population, but these characters will not be OOC, and if they are I trust you to tell me. I can’t stand OOC Voldemort.**

**Okays! Off to the story!**

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_And I'd give up forever to touch you_  
Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now 

_And all I can taste is this moment_  
And all I can breathe is your life  
Cause sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight 

_And I don't want the world to see me_  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am 

_And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming_  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything seems like the movies  
Yeah you bleed just to know your alive 

_And I don't want the world to see me_  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am 

_I don't want the world to see me_  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am 

_I just want you to know who I am_  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am  
I just want you to know who I am 

_-Goo Goo Dolls – Iris_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 1- Dreams

Another restless night of sleep. Another myriad of haunting faces and echoing screams. Harry’s mental connection with Voldemort was one he never got used to, but it was at least something he’d come to accept over the years. At 17, he’d had endless nights harassed with visions of torture and death. Those nights he would wake up screaming, or sometimes even talking as if he were the serpentine monster who ruled his sleep. Other nights, as time wore on, Harry found himself involuntarily traipsing into less violent arenas of the Dark Lord’s psyche. Oftentimes now, Harry would watch through the man’s eyes merely as he sat in his chair or had simple conversations.

Regardless of the simplicity of some of these mental intrusions, Harry still loathed every bit of the contact. His scar would burn maliciously against his skull as he awoke, and he found himself wondering how Voldemort could be so careless as to allow Harry to intrude upon his world every night. Surely the villain didn’t want him to observe every action the merciless Lord took during the hours of darkness.

And it was no exaggeration to say “every”. Harry cringed at memories that passed behind his eyelids and he sat up in bed. Harry had wondered offhandedly once if the reptilian body Voldemort possessed was completely human. Hell, he was missing a nose, so who knew what else he’d been deprived of. However, much to Harry’s discomfort, he’d seen on numerous occasions that a nose was the only thing that Tom Riddle did not possess; and sickeningly, those visions were just as violent as his muggle torture sessions.

Harry shook off the thoughts of his visions and rose from his bed at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Slowly dragging his weary feet towards the bathroom, he couldn’t help but give an embarrassing start as Kreacher, the house elf of the most “noble house of Black”, let out a sharp cough at Harry’s appearance in the hall.

“Filthy half-blood, tarnishing Mistress’ floors,” the elf gritted out from his jagged teeth before he spoke more loudly. “Potter, Master, walks in the house.”

“Thanks for the narration, Kreacher,” Harry retorted tiredly.

Kreacher simply twitched his obtuse head and continued his polishing of the banister. Harry rolled his eyes. He had no clue as to why Kreacher, a house elf who would rather die than clean anything other than Sirius’ mother’s portrait, was polishing something, but he decided to let it pass. At least an inch of the house would be cleaner.

He continued about his morning ritual; washing up, joining Ron and Hermione for breakfast, and dressing for the day’s research.

Ever since they’d started searching for the horcruxes, Harry had found his nose buried in more books than adventures. Hermione had admonished him to fully read up on horcruxes before pursuing them. At first, he’d been utterly devoid of all desire to study--seeing as he’d already left school—so he set off against the witch’s protests and recklessly sought the first horcrux.

However, the mission did not end out as intended. Instead of gloriously crushing the artifact and a shred of Voldemort’s soul along with it, Harry had been laid up in Saint Mungo’s for a week as numerous medi-witches and wizards tried valiantly to remove the humongous, unidentifiable blobs that had sprouted from Harry’s skin as soon as he’d touched the horcrux. He still had small, freckled, white scars dancing over his pale flesh from that.

Needless to say, he decided to listen to Hermione’s suggestion, not knowing that doing so would land him in the library of Grimmauld Place for ten hours a day. With the exception of visits from the surviving members of the order; such as Remus, Tonks, and Moody; Harry found himself caught in a daily schedule of monotonous eating, reading, and sleeping. Lately, sleeping had been the most eventful part of the day.

He’d tried to sleep as little as possible now, burying his nose in books that Hermione threw at him as an excuse not to close his eyes and see through Tom Riddle’s once more. The dreams succeeded only in giving him worse cabin fever than he already had. In seeing the man he most wanted to kill, aside from Severus Snape, who was also quite high on his death-list, Harry only grew more angry and impatient to destroy the horcruxes and vanquish the most feared wizard on the planet.

Ron hadn’t said much to Harry as of late, still processing the fact that they had not returned to Hogwarts that year. Though it was simple to Harry and Hermione that they no longer needed to attend Hogwarts—at least for the time being--, Ron had a much more difficult time accepting the change. Hogwarts had been a safe house of sorts, blocking off small sections of reality so that they could handle the uprising of dark times. Now that they were not there, the world’s reality had hit them all full force, making them realize that life was not as simple as living anymore. No, they now had to really fight, or else death would jump at them from the nearest dark alleyway.

Ron had never been skilled at hiding his emotions, and this was no different. His façade had changed. He’d become much more quiet and reserved, speaking in a contemplative hush that was not characteristic of the usually energetic read-head. Though Hermione and Harry had been worried, they sympathized, knowing that their friend just didn’t hide his fear as well as they did.

After all, fear ran their lives. They didn’t admit it, but the air in the house, the streets, the world… it was all rank with fear. Now that Voldemort’s return was fully believed by one and all, an unsettling chill had drifted over wizards and muggles alike. The adults that Harry had once regarded as mentors were either dead or had shifted into a position beside him, equal in their fear and anxiety.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn’t stopped training. They’d practiced spells diligently, but none of them could be so proud or naïve as to say that they had mastered any sort of magic. They were skilled, but not nearly as much as they should be. They were knowledgeable, but only from experience. They were brave, but to the point of idiocy in certain circumstances.

Harry, in one slight, pensive moment, had even considered Snape’s opinions of him when he was a student. The man had been right about his dedication and intelligence. Harry really had been a fool. He’d come to be able to at least admit that much to himself as the cruel reality of his life set around him, but his venom for both Snape and his own faults would quickly drench any such admissions.

Harry sighed and flipped through another few pages of the worn book on the table in front of it.

“You’ve actually got to read the pages, Harry,” Hermione chided as she observed Harry’s mindless actions.

Harry grunted in response and glanced over at Ron, who was simply observing the small interaction silently as he ate a piece of bread. Harry looked back down at his book again and sighed, mentally this time. He’d been hoping for Ron to spark up and comment on Hermione’s statement, saying something about how hard it was to concentrate on these bloody books. It was unnerving seeing Ron so passive, to the point of where it made Harry more nervous than he already was. He felt separated from his best friend, like Ron understood something he didn’t, and Harry desperately wanted to know what he was missing.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and sat her book aside with a thump, a small smile etching its way into her strong features. “Well I suppose we have read quite a bit today,” she said playfully. It was remarkable how she still had the ability to be playful. “So why don’t we play a game of exploding snap or something? Fred and George left some things from their shop here, didn’t they?”

Harry and Ron looked at her with mild surprise. It was rare these days to have Hermione, or any of them for that matter, suggest something fun or unproductive. They were always working with no time for rest or play.

So, naturally, the boys were more than ready to find the products the Weasley twins had left behind.

They didn’t play for long. Just a few games of wizard’s chess and gobstones. But it was enough just to smile for a few hours before they returned to the seriousness of their studies.

It was late into the night before Harry gave up his war with his heavy eyelids. His companions had already resigned themselves to their rooms, fast asleep and unafraid of visions to haunt their minds. The raven-haired wizard trudged his way to his room, lying down regretfully on his bed and succumbing to the seductive darkness that was sleep.

\--

A figure was leaning in the frame of a door. Harry strained his eyes to make them out. He tried to call to them, but the person did not seem to hear him. Slowly, he edged towards them, suddenly growing fearful and drawing his wand.

His emerald eyes narrowed as the face became clear. It was one he did not recognize. Yet, it had a familiar essence about it.

It was a man, with high cheekbones and mesmerizing, dark eyes. He wasn’t looking at Harry, as if the boy wasn’t even in the room with him. His very short and gleaming hair was as dark as his eyes. He was by no means classic in looks, but a regal handsomeness emanated from him.

He turned, and Harry woke up, his scar burning.

\--

Harry poked at his eggs with his fork absentmindedly as he struggled to recall the face of the man from his dream the previous night. It was faded and Harry had lost the sense of familiarity with it since he had awoken. He remembered recognizing it, if only a little, while he was asleep, but now as he looked back at the dark eyes and solemn expression, he could no longer recognize anything about it.

The man was a complete stranger to him. But, if he’d never known him, how in the world could he see him so clearly in his dreams?

Harry shook his head. Apparently, it was a sudden movement, because it startled Ron into the point of knocking over his juice. His friend gazed at him inquisitively, as did Hermione, and Harry felt annoyed at himself for thinking too strongly. He knew they’d have questions now, and he hated talking about his dreams.

“I just had an odd dream last night,” Harry said, sipping at the water in his glass.

“Another vision?” Hermione asked worriedly, knitting her eyebrows together in a maternal gesture.

Harry had the strange urge to chuckle. “No. I have those all the time. This was different.”

“Different how?” Ron inquired softly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chairs.

“Well, it wasn’t like a vision. It was more like a dream,” Harry replied, trying to think of how to describe it. “There was a man. I didn’t recognize him.”

“A man?” Ron repeated, looking bemused, “Well that doesn’t sound like anything much. Was he doing anything?”

Harry shook his head. “No. Nothing. He was just… standing there, looking into space.”

“Well I don’t know why your mind is all boggled over it, then,” Hermione stated, easing up. “Sounds just like a normal dream. Maybe you were just recalling someone you’d seen on the street or something. It happens all the time.”

“I don’t know. He seemed familiar.”

“I thought you didn’t recognize him?” Hermione answered, picking up the three’s dishes and heading for the sink.

“I don’t now. It was just for a moment,” Harry said, adjusting his glasses. “Something just seemed familiar about him, that’s all. And I never have dreams. Do you think it might be someone Voldemort wanted me to see? Maybe this man’s a death eater or something.”

“Possibly,” Hermione agreed, “But you shouldn’t linger over it, Harry. Especially if You-Know… Voldemort wants you to. For now, it doesn’t affect us. If you have the dream again, then we’ll tell Lupin.”

Harry nodded and stood, waving his hand through the air as if throwing the dream into the rubbish bin. “let’s get to the library then,” he murmured. “The sooner the better. We’ve got to get through these books or we’ll read through the whole bloody war.”

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**Terribly short chapter. Sorry about that. I was just introducing Harry and them again. Setting up, you know. The next chapters’ll be longer.**

**But for now, I leave you with this intro of sorts.**

**Yay for Ralph Fiennes!**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr**


	2. Solitude

**A/N: If you can’t tell, I’m putting songs that relate to the story at the beginning of every chapter. It’s gonna be hard to find ones that remind me of the story later on, but for now it shouldn’t be a problem. Read these songs because I want you to feel the mood of this fanfiction as you read along.**

**Anyways, enjoy! I’ll try not to take too long between chapters.**

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_Tell you where you need to go_

_Tell you when you’ll need to leave_

_Tell you what you need to know  
Tell you who you need to be_

_But everything inside you knows_  
Says more than what you’ve heard  
So much more than empty conversations  
Filled with empty words 

_And you’re on fire_  
When he’s near you  
You’re on fire  
When he speaks  
You’re on fire  
Burning at these mysteries 

_Give me one more time around_  
Give me one more chance to see  
Give me everything you are  
Give me one more chance to be near you 

_Cause everything inside me looks like_  
Everything I hate  
You are the hope I have for change  
You are the only chance I’ll take 

_When I’m on fire_  
When you’re near me  
I’m on fire  
When you speak  
And I’m on fire  
Burning at these mysteries  
These mysteries 

_I’m standing on the edge of me  
I’m standing on the edge_

_Of everything I’ve never been before_  
And I’m on fire  
When I'm near you  
I’m on fire  
When you speak  
I’m on fire  
Burning at these mysteries 

_These mysteries_

_-Switchfoot – On Fire_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 2- Solitude

The room was ridiculously dank. It was annoying—sitting in the filthily moldy stone chamber for hours on end. It was one of the drawbacks of an underground manor. It was also the consequence of trusting imbecilic death eaters to find a suitable location to live in without being noticed by unwelcome witches and wizards.

Voldemort scowled at the flickering shadows on the stone wall. The torches were charmed not to make noise, for he hated the crackle of wood in such an empty space. It just added to the desolation of the place.

It wasn’t as if the manor wasn’t practically accommodating. It was. It kept him out of the sight of the Order of the Phoenix and gave him a satisfactory place to hold meetings and torture sessions. It was even fairly agreeable to live in, for the most part. His room was lavished with rich upholstery and other adornments. All of that was good and fine. It was the smell of the old, sunless stone was what he couldn’t get used to. It reeked of lifelessness.

He vaguely wished for any sign of outer existence other than his aggravatingly cowardly followers. He’d not been out of the manor in months, on the advice from his most trusted death eater, Severus Snape, to stay hidden as the frantic Order raged at the death of their beloved Albus Dumbledore.

Tom snorted at the thought of the old man, shaking his head slightly in disgust. He glanced over in the direction of Wormtail, the rat who always sat at the side of his seat, just as the sniveling buffoon uttered a sniff of curiosity. “Is everything okay, master?” Wormtail inquired nervously, bowing his head slightly.

“Shut up,” Tom replied nonchalantly, waving his hand to silence the pitiful waste of human flesh.

Voldemort ignored the man as he sniffled in what was most likely fear. His mind traveled to the nights of his “imprisonment”. The Dark Lord was not a man who needed much sleep, nor did he like to succumb to the act. He felt unprotected as he slept and loathed the vulnerability that accompanied dormancy.

Therefore, he often stayed up for days at a time, merely to escape the hours of weakness. However, this insomnia had brought on an even more distressing weakness. It was one that he had not decided as to whether or not it was more beneficial or destructive. The lack of sleep had weakened his mind; not to a severe degree, of course, but it had lightened his barriers ever so slightly. As it seemed, this weakening was all that Harry Potter needed to forge an almost nightly connection to Tom.

He highly doubted that the mental rendezvous’ were intentional on the boy’s part. Most likely they were involuntary, at the times when the young wizard’s mind was the most vulnerable. In other words, Voldemort was almost certain that the connections happened when Harry was asleep.

Needless to say, it was rather unwelcome. It was as if the boy tugged physically on his mind. He could almost feel him staring through his eyes sometimes, as if his head was not his own.

It happened at the most inconvenient times at well. Whenever he was either completely relaxed or in an emotional spike; that was when Harry Potter would show. He’d even felt the wizard’s presence during certain activities that the witless wonder was very unwelcome to witness. Sure, Voldemort could handle Harry observing tortures, murders, and blankly staring at walls—as he was doing now—, but when the lighting bolt scar tainted the Dark Lord’s nights of the more pleasurable activities that he sometimes indulged in… well…. that was taking things too far.

Most likely the young wizard would not take it upon himself to mention Voldemort’s particular tastes. After all, the last thing Tom Riddle needed was for the Daily Prophet to announce that yes, he was evil, but he was an evil fairy, which seemed a bit less frightening. Tom had never really considered his preferences to be an issue. The Death Eaters never spoke a word of it, and he naturally felt more powerful to be able to dominate other men. It was ridiculous to think that it would interfere by any means with his conquest. Yet, it was still not something that he liked to share openly with every passerby.

Besides, it wasn’t as if anyone would actually believe Potter if he told them that the great Lord Voldemort was gay.

Voldemort’s face twisted into a disgusted grimace and he felt the sudden need to lash out at someone. “Wormtail!”

The man at his side cried out in surprise and stuttered his reply pathetically. “Y-yes master?”

The Dark Lord surveyed the vermin for a moment, considering torturing him for a bit; but the more the rat sniffled and shook, the less he felt like doing anything to him. “Get out,” he commanded, looking away at the wall once more.

Though Pettigrew was rather confused, he was likely much more frightened, so he did as he was told and fled the room, gently shutting the heavy oak doors behind him. Tom snorted at the ridiculous display of cowardice; an action that was very unlike him. It was not as if he never showed more humanlike tendencies. No, he did not weep or sulk, but he too succumbed to the occasional snort of disapproval or grimace of disgust.

He lifted his wand and surveyed it carefully. It was pathetically cliché looking, with its bone-white sheen and dramatized handle that looked like a skull from afar. It was not a skull, of course, but it resembled one closely enough.

He twirled the wand around his fingers in thought. Contrary to popular belief, the ivory stick did not hold as many deaths within it as were expected of him. His count was around ten--for the wand, at least. No doubt it was more than the average wizard, surely, but he felt he had displayed at least a certain amount of restraint in comparison to his reputation.

Not that it wasn’t flattering for the entire wizarding world to believe that he went on daily killing sprees.

Voldemort chuckled inwardly. It was really amusing how ignorant the outside world truly was when it came to him. For instance, they seemingly believed that he held torture sessions for mere pleasure. Though that had been the case on a few occasions, it was rare. Usually, whenever he uttered Crucio, it was for a reason. One had to make a point somehow. Crucio was merely a convenient way to make your opinion clear. It was also very good for retrieving information, but he had much easier means for that need.

It was true that he liked to cause pain, but only on those who had likewise inflicted some sort of inconvenience upon him. For those who tried to hurt him, disobey him, or hinder him, punishment was necessary. He liked to see them squirm. Tom saw it as an eye for an eye.

They were right about his thirst for power. Tom lusted after it. Power over himself and others was something he dreamed of. He liked control. He liked things to go the way he wanted them to. It wasn’t his fault that his tendencies were towards more… violent methods. He did what he needed to do to get things done. He loved getting what he wanted.

He did not love the smell of fear. He hated it, but it was often accompanied with pain, and pain was often accompanied with hate. That he could deal with. Hate was something he had cornucopias of. He’d had plenty of reasons to be hateful. The way he was treated as a child was means enough. But the best way he’d gotten all that hate was from others. The more he came to power, the more people hated him. He had consumed all of their malcontent as if it were food.

It had left him to become nothing more than a monster.

And being a monster got him what he wanted.

But being a monster also did something else. It secluded him. He’d tried desperately to gain respect and reverence, but all he had gained was fear. Never had he genuinely been respected. He had to admit it was hard to gain honest respect when you tried to suck it from fear. The respect he did have was from a horrific viewpoint. It was not real.

Still, he was alone. Fear was his company.

And he hated the smell of fear.

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**Waaa! I know it was short! I’m just trying to introduce everyone and the settings! Now stuff will actually start to happen! Yay for stuff!**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr**


	3. Horcrux

**A/N: Now that the Deathly Hallows is out, I feel the need to clarify that no, this fanfiction will not be compliant with the seventh book.**

**HOWEVER! I will be using certain aspects of the Deathly Hallows, such as certain horcruxes. That's all I'll pretty much use from the books, though. So if you don't want horcruxes to be spoiled for you, don't read chapter 3+ until after you've read the Deathly Hallows.**

**Otherwise, since I started it before DH's release, I’ll stick to following the events of HBP only. This story takes place in the Deathly Hallows time, though.**

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 __  
Honestly what will become of me  
don't like reality  
It's way too clear to me  
But really life is daily  
We are what we don't see  
Missed everything daydreaming

_Flames to dust_  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
Flames to dust  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
come to an end come to an  
Why do all good things come to end? 

_Traveling I only stop at exits_  
Wondering if I'll stay  
Young and restless  
Living this way I stress less  
I want to pull away when the dream dies  
The pain sets it and I don't cry  
I only feel gravity and I wonder why 

_Flames to dust_  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
Flames to dust  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end 

_Well the dogs were whistling a new tune_  
Barking at the new moon  
Hoping it would come soon so that they could  
Dogs were whistling a new tune  
Barking at the new moon  
Hoping it would come soon so that they could  
Die die die die die 

_Flames to dust_  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
Flames to dust  
Lovers to friends  
Why do all good things come to an end  
come to an end come to an  
Why do all good things come to end? 

_Well the dogs were barking at a new moon_  
Whistling a new tune  
Hoping it would come soon  
And the sun was wondering if it should stay away for a day 'til the feeling went away  
And the sky was falling on the clouds were dropping and  
the rain forgot how to bring salvation  
the dogs were barking at the new moon  
Whistling a new tune  
Hoping it would come soon 

_So that they could die._

_-Nelly Furtado – All Good Things_  
  
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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 3- Horcrux

“Helga Hufflepuff's cup was once owned by Hepzibah Smith, a distant descendant of Hufflepuff. It was stolen from her after her murder at the hands of…Voldemort,” Hermione faltered at the name still, even though she’d spoken it for years now. Old habits died hard.

The brown-haired witch was currently describing one of their suspected horcruxes. She’d done research on all they scrounged up on their list, of sorts, and was now delineating all of their histories to Harry and Ron so that they could possibly figure out where to start their journey at last.

“The Cup,” she continued, “Like Slytherin's Locket--which was what you and Dumbledore went to find, Harry--went on to become one of Voldemort's many Horcruxes. It’s possible that it could reside at Hogwarts. After all, Helga Hufflepuff was one of the founders.”

“But it was stolen from,” Harry interjected as Ron watched on with a bemusing thoughtful expression. “Most likely the thief took it from Hogwarts.”

Hermione frowned, her brows knit together in intelligent agitation.

“Well…” Ron began, starting Harry and Hermione from their concentrated ponderings, “If it disappeared shortly after Voldemort murdered her…”

Hermione caught onto the thought process and nodded vigorously. “That means that Voldemort himself must have taken it,” she finished.

“Or at least one of his Death Eaters,” added Harry, scanning down the list of horcruxes once more without truly reading through it. “If Voldemort is hiding it, then we’ve got no hope of getting our hands on it. He’ll probably have all sorts of protection…”

“But Voldemort himself can’t possibly be hiding it,” Hermione said, flipping open one of the dark books that the trio had been given by Remus Lupin. She read aloud:

“A creator of a horcrux cannot be near the item physically after its creation. This closeness or contact would cause severe physical and mental distress; enough to leave the witch or wizard incapable of using magic while in the vicinity of the horcrux.”

Ron and Harry were both silent for a moment after she finished.

“So,” Ron began again, surprising his companions once more at his speech, “That would mean that Voldemort couldn’t keep the cup near ‘im. So even if he did have one of his Death Eaters take it, he couldn’t personally protect it.”

“The place where the horcrux is then,” Harry said, a little loudly as his excitement grew at a realization, “Would be a place where Voldemort would be completely unable to go. If we went there it would be impossible for him to stop us. We wouldn’t have to worry about him attacking.”

Hermione nodded brusquely. “That’s right, but you’ve got to remember that his followers are just as dangerous, Harry. They may not be as powerful as him, but they’re still powerful enough to kill us if we aren’t prepared.”

“We’ve taken on Death Eaters before!” Harry defended, irritated that his excitement had been shot down. “Load of times! We’re not kids anymore, Hermione. We can handle them.”

Hermione frowned at Harry’s recklessness. She understood it, but it was still frustrating. “So you’re telling me that if twenty Death Eaters were to attack us, you actually think that three to twenty is fair odds? Don’t tell me you’re that foolish.”

Harry scowled. She had a point, but he had known that already. He was just so tired of sitting and reading and researching. He wanted to find the horcruxes and destroy them. It wasn’t as if they had all the time in the world to accomplish that goal! Couldn’t Hermione see that they were running out of time?!

Seeing Harry’s exasperated look, Hermione forced herself to be less correcting of him. “Harry. There’s no doubt that Voldemort has the horcrux’s hiding place very well protected. There will be more than Death Eaters waiting for us if we go recklessly forward. Besides, we don’t even no where it is at this point.”

“We don’t know where any of them are!” Harry exclaimed, feeling hopeless for a moment. “How will we ever find them? We’ve got no clue as to the location of any of them.” He clasped fists around his knees and dug his fingers into his jeans to calm his swelling feeling of self-doubt.

“Actually, I do have an idea where one might be,” Hermione stated. She smiled softly as the statement earned a hopeful look from Harry and an intrigued one from Ron. She grabbed a long sheet of parchment. Upon it were gobs of her scribbled handwriting, which appeared to be in chunks and unintelligible notes.

“Do you remember that one of the other horcruxes had to be either of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor’s?” Hermione inquired and she fingered through her notes. The two boys nodded and Hermione continued. “Well I did a great deal of research on Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaws history and possessions. A few things seemed to pop out. For instance, Gryffindor’s sword seemed possible; but then I found a story about Ravenclaw that was very interesting. She had a diadem.”

“A whatsit?” Ron asked suddenly, looking perplexed. Harry’s confusion was no less.

Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement. “A diadem. It’s like a crown or a tiara.”

Ron snorted, making Harry chuckle. It had been a while since his friend had displayed any true emotion, so even a snort was pleasing to hear.

“Anyway,” Hermione started again, “Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem was stolen by her daughter, Helena Ravenclaw, who was later known as the Grey Lady, ghost of Ravenclaw House. You remember her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Harry replied, remembering the silent, gowned ghost who had never spoken to him as long as he’d been at Hogwarts.

Hermione continued to peruse her notes. “After running away with her mother's tiara, Helena was pursued by her then-suitor, the Bloody Baron.”

Ron and Harry made disgusted faces, but Hermione ignored them.

“Shortly before he caught up with her in an Albanian forest, Helena hid the Diadem in a tree. When Helena refused the Baron's advances, he killed her. Horrified by what he'd done, he killed himself. Years later, Helena's spirit was tricked into revealing the Diadem's resting place by the charming Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

Harry’s ears perked up immediately and the scowl from earlier returned to his face. “Volemort.”

Hermione nodded grimly. “Riddle traveled to Albania and acquired the Diadem, transforming it into a Horcrux. Later, when he returned to Hogwarts to request from Dumbledore the Defence Against the Dark Arts position and when he cursed said position, he hid Ravenclaw's Horcrux in the one place that he believed he alone knew about, the Room of Requirement.”

“The place where we held those Dumbledore’s Army meetings?” Ron gasped.

“The same,” Hermione replied.

“But how would we be able to get it out of there?” Harry frowned. “Could we just wish to see the diadem and it will appear behind the doors?”

Hermione shrugged helplessly. “I’ve got no clue. The only way we’ll truly know is if we go and see. For all we know, the horcrux could have been removed when the Death Eaters came to the castle through the Room of Requirement last year.”

“It’s still worth a shot,” Harry said.

“Well then I guess that’s where we’ll start our search,” Hermione concluded. “Now, remember what I told you about how to destroy a horcrux, Harry. It’s very complicated.” She pointed her finger up into the air severely.

“Merlin, Hermione!” Harry cried dramatically as if she had just stabbed him. “You’ve told me so many times my ears will fall off if I hear it again!” He grinned at her affronted expression.

Hermione smiled at the display of levity. “Still, Harry, we don’t want to mess up. The results could be catastrophic. No one really knows what would happen if you were to incorrectly try to shatter the bond of a horcrux from its object.”

“Well I’ve already destroyed one,” Harry muttered, “I should be a pro by now.”

“You didn’t even know it was a horcrux,” Hermione countered.  
”Ignorance was bliss back then,” Harry answered as he stood, sounding remarkably jaded. “Let’s get going then. We can’t disapparate Hogwarts from here, and I’m bloody well ready to get out of this house.”

The other two nodded and Hermione decided to let the topic drop until they reached Hogwarts. Heading down the stairs from the library, the trio glanced around once more at the uninviting interior of Grimmauld Place before walking out the front door.

“And here I thought we weren’t going back to Hogwarts this year,” Ron grumbled quietly.

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When they arrived just outside the anti-apparation wards of Hogwarts, the trio was momentarily stunned at the sight of the majestic castle that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

They took a reticent moment of remembrance as they stared at the unchanged grounds. It was as if nothing had changed, yet it felt like so many years had passed since they’d last set foot on these grounds.

Harry took a hesitant step forward. It was odd being there; no longer a student. The Weasleys had informed him that Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, had grudgingly decided to reopen the school, though many students—or most likely their parents—had decided not to attend this year.

Ginny had informed them that the school was almost empty in comparison to their former years of schooling. The most that had returned were Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. One group afraid to show cowardice, the other afraid to miss a year’s education.

The three trudged slowly up to the castle’s entrance. Harry noted that Hagrid’s hut, which had been set on fire the year previously, had been put right once more. It really was as if nothing had happened. Harry felt oddly annoyed.

They had not taken it upon themselves to think to send McGonagall an owl alerting her of their arrival. At the time they had not thought of it, feeling it unnecessary and time-consuming. But now, as they pushed open the great doors of the entrance hall and entered a world that had once been their home, they now felt as if their surroundings were alien and far away, causing them to regret not announcing themselves before hand.

The school was bustling with the sounds of happy students from the Great Hall, but it was otherwise silent and peaceful. They almost felt like they were intruding upon something; like they were being wrong and indecent to bring the trouble of the outside world into such a sanctuary. That’s how Ron and Hermione felt, at least. Harry was traveling through a tumult of very different feelings.

As the Boy-Who-Lived entered Hogwarts, he felt as if he’d been hit in the gut. He’d half-expected to see dark, lifeless halls, with the stains of blood from his shoes as he’d run to chase Snape and Draco still on the floor as if that fateful night had happened only last night, and not so many months ago.

However, the blood was gone and the halls were bright and filled with cheery sounds of content silence and giggling children.

It didn’t seem right. Harry felt a wave of rage rush over him. It was similar to what he felt for those at the Ministry of Magic, where they constantly covered up everything and denied the reality of Voldemort’s rising. Hen was also angry, and perhaps sad, at the fact that he knew no Dumbledore resided here. Nor, he thought with a confusing feel of regret and disgust, was Snape. The absence of the two men was palpable to him; both absences speaking multitudes to Harry. The emptiness screamed at Harry, berating him and mocking him, laughing in his face.

Harry, of course, knew all of these overwhelming emotions to be idiotic and unwarranted, but he still felt a lingering whisper of them and he crunched them down into the back of his mind as he started to ascend the stairs with Ron and Hermione to McGonagall’s office.

McGonagall had been shocked, to say in the least, at the trio’s appearance.

“Why in the devil are you wandering around unprotected?” she screeched. Ron shrunk back in mock fear. “You should be with members of the Order! Merlin’s Beard, if Molly knew you three were wandering around so casually!”

“We’re not wandering around casually,” retorted Harry. “This is the only place we’ve been besides Grimmauld Place and the Burrow.”

McGonagall’s initial shock seemed to have died down and her expression was now one replaced with pity and relief. “It’s wonderful to see you again,” she said finally, “This must be so hard for you. Would you like some tea?”

“No thank you, Professor,” Hermione answered politely, opening her mouth to say more. The Headmistress cut her off.

“As it seems,” the wizened old lady said, “You are no longer students of this school.” She said this with a bit of a face, as if she had tasted something rather unfriendly to the gullet. The three looked at their feet bashfully. They’d had a reason not to return, but it was still rather shameful—not completing one’s education.

“So,” McGonagall continued, “I am not your Professor. Besides, if I am anything at this critically point in our history, it is your comrade.” She smiled, something that the three teens had not often seen her do. This strange occurrence prompted them to smile as well. “So call me Minerva,” she finished quickly, looking flustered at the show of affection.

She waved her hand through the air dismissively, looking up at the picture of Albus Dumbledore as a distraction. The old man was currently snoozing in the portrait, his half-moon spectacles lingering on the precipice of falling off his nose. Harry shared her stare for a moment, a twinge of accepted pain biting at his heart.

“Well then,” Minerva announced suddenly as if she was about to give a speech. “What was it that you came here for?”

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Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood outside the wall of the Room of Requirement, staring nervously at the stone wall.

So they were finally going to face a horcrux.

Would it even be there? Had the Death Eaters already taken it? Would they even know which room to think of to make the right one appear? Would the Room of Requirement even allow them to enter it?

Hundreds of questions buzzed through the teens’ minds as they walked back and forth in front of the wall.

One…two…three times.

Slowly, they felt the crackle of magic as a door began to fade onto the wall as if it was building itself from nothing. Spiraling and twisting metals framed the elaborate opening and a smooth, elegant door handle rose from the surface.

Glancing back and forth at his companions, Harry grabbed the knob and pulled.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

**Eek gads! They’re actually doing something! Sorry about that semi- cliff-hanger. It wasn’t that bad, but this is where things start to get interesting. I know Voldie wasn’t in this chapter, but I’m sick of writing slash that only focuses on the two involved and there’s no outside story.**

**Besides, this has a lot to do with the two of them anyways. :P**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr  
**


	4. Awareness

_There's someone inside me that softly kills everyone around_  
They don't know they're dead to me cause intent never makes a sound  
All along they found I strangled lovers who've learned from slower hands  
With these eleven minutes I could teach you what I am 

_You're sick, sick as all the_  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide  
You're sick, sick as all the  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide 

_There's an art in seclusion. Production in depression_  
if a stranger turns up missing, this song is my confession  
Tell the tales of the trail of dead, lovers learn from slower hands  
Losing self in myself, inner demons make demands 

_You're sick, sick as all the_  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide  
You're sick, sick as all the  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide 

_You're suffocating me, so very hard to breathe  
My mask is growing heavy but I've forgotten who's beneath_

_You're sick, sick as all the_  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide  
You're sick, sick as all the  
Secrets that you deny  
Sins like skeletons are so very hard to hide 

_-Anberlin - Reclusion_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 4- Awareness

Voldemort was thoroughly displeased.

Thoroughly, excruciatingly, infuriatingly displeased.

“Lucius!” he bellowed as he swept through the halls of his underground manor with an obvious goal. He black robes swept around him as he strode, giving him the strange appearance of floating. “Lucius!”

A man with stunning silver-blonde hair that fell down to his waist rounded the corner, looking shocked. His grey eyes widened as he caught sight of the Dark Lord rushing towards him and he unceremoniously stepped aside in case the man intended to pass him. “My Lord? Is something the matter?” he inquired carefully, making sure not to look into the snake-like man’s eyes.

Riddle scowled. “I did not, Lucius,” he jerked his palm upwards and Lucius Malfoy’s head snapped up to face him. “I did not free you from your imprisonment in Azkaban for you to sit here idly as Harry Potter plots to overthrow me!”

“My Lord?” Lucius responded, confused.

Voldemort shook his head violently, obviously disgusted at having to provide an explanation. “The boy is dull, Lucius. We all know this,” he spat, “But those who are with him are not so witless. His cohorts have obviously been planning something. The boy is at Hogwarts now. Why has he not been followed?”

The elder Malfoy looked stunned. “My Lord,” he began slowly, but Voldemort cut him off.  
”Save the formalities, Lucius,” Tom snapped, “And tell me why you’ve not been keeping an eye on the brat.”

“We… we have been trying to overthrow the Ministry of Magic, my L-,” Lucius stopped himself before uttering the end of his sentence, trying not to show weakness as he strained not to wince for fear of reprimand. “The boy has not appeared in months-“

“And you think this is for no reason?” the Dark Lord bellowed. “No, you must believe he is merely napping all this time.”

Lucius tried to defend himself, but Tom gave him no room to speak.  
”I overestimated you intelligence. To think that they at least are not training Potter. Merlin knows what else they are planning. Potter has been declared my one true adversary by public and prophecy alike, yet you do not deem him an issue?” Voldemort’s pale green skin contorted as he venomously continued, his hairless features contorted with aggravation. “This is a war, my dear Lucius, and as such the enemy must be watched at every turn. Do not concentrate solely on government ties.”

“But, my Lord,” Lucius interjected, “Must we not control the government if we are to control the people? Without a stronger force on our side, we have no way to bring down the entirety of the order of the Phoenix.” He waited with trepidation as Voldemort regarded him silently, his expression unreadable.

“You are correct,” he said finally, and Lucius relaxed slightly. “However,” Tom extended a spidery index finger and ran it slowly across Lucius’ jaw-line. “If you do not get some people on Potter, I will be very, very unimpressed.” He retracted his hand sharply and Malfoy’s eye twitched. “I want to know why, after all this time, he has returned to that old school.” As Lucis gave him an inquisitive look, he added an answer to the silent question. “The boy’s mind has been weak as of late. It is simple to see what he is thinking of when he concentrates on it so expressly as he often does. It’s pathetic, really.”

“What do you wish me to do, my Lord?” the blonde wizard inquired, “Shall I go to Hogwarts?”

Voldemort shook his head. “No, no,” he paused, thoughtful. “Actually, I have a much more inviting idea. Seeing as that annoying old man no longer resides in Hogwarts, I feel like paying that castle an overdue visit.” He waved his hand to silence Lucius as the man opened his mouth to protest. “I’ll take Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. I need no more than that. After all, this will be a short excursion.”

“My Lord, do you wish to destroy the boy now?”

“Not at all,” Voldemort scoffed, as if the idea was simply ridiculous. “There will be a time and place for that. No, I simply wish to find out what he is up to. Besides, he needs a friendly reminder of my presence.”

“But the castle is a known location for some of the Order members,” Lucius continued in vain, trying to persuade the Dark Lord to remain in the manor. “Surely Potter will have some of them with him. It’s far too dangerous.”

“Are you implying,” Tom replied coldly, looking at the other wizard with dangerous red eyes, “That I cannot defend myself against a few measly witches and wizards? Protectors of mudbloods and blood traitors? Do you think that they could overpower me?” He ignored Lucius’ mortified look. “I will only be there for a short period of time. Just enough to say hello to Harry. I am so dying to see him.”

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“Blimey!” Ron exclaimed, gazing around the cathedral of a room in awe. “Look at all this stuff!”

Hermione was just as stunned, but Harry had seen this room before. Entering the high-ceilinged cavern, piled high with hundreds of objects, he looked around on nearby shelves, dead set on finding the item he desired. Stacks of dusty books, prank toys, and old candies littered the floor and he had to maneuver himself carefully around the odd rubble.

“This must have taken years and years to create,” Hermione gasped as she and Ron followed Harry. “Imagine what’s in here!”

“Well hopefully a horcrux is on the list,” replied Harry and he climbed onto a pile of books and peered onto a shelf that bore numerous copies of broom care manuals.

His comment seemed to snap Ron and Hermione out of their amazement and they started to search as well.

Ron picked up a book and peered underneath it, as if the horcrux would be hiding there. He turned to Harry. “What does a dayd…..diag….dild-“

“Diadem!” Hermione ejaculated in annoyance.

Ron flushed. “Well what does a diadem look like?” he murmured.  
”It’s just like a tiara, Ronald,” Hermione responded briskly as she inspected an old telescope. “It will resemble a crown,” she added as Ron stood there dumbly.

“Oh…right,” Ron answered as he scratched the back of his red head in embarrassment.

Harry slid past shelf after shelf, gazing distractedly at their contents and he fingered his wand idly. Suddenly, a thought came to him. Surely it couldn’t be that easy. Clearing his throat, he raised his wand and uttered, “Accio diadem.”

Sure enough, Hermione let out a surprised squeak as a clutter of objects above her fell of the shelves and a silver gleam flew from the shelf into Harry’s waiting hand.

Ron stumbled over to Harry, who was looking quite surprised. “Who knew it’d be that easy?”

“Well I suppose whoever put it in here didn’t believe anyone would think to look for it in here, so anti magic charms were unnecessary,” Hermione stated as she prized herself from underneath a pile of rubble.

Harry was inspecting the crown, suppressing an urge to chuckle. It was a shimmering silver, with ornate carvings in the precious metal and shining blue stones set in its surface. “Seems a bit girlie for a horcrux, don’t you think?” he asked with a grin. Run guffawed.  
”Oh don’t be ridiculous, Harry,” Hermione snapped, snatching the diadem from his fingers.  
”Hey!” Harry started, but she smacked him in the shoulder and it effectively silenced him. He looked betrayed by the physical abuse and rubbed his shoulder in mock pain.

Hermione rummaged around in her bag for a minute and pulled out a vial of shimmering blue liquid. She’d explained to them beforehand what it was, and they swallowed nervously at the sight of it.

“Doesn’t look like it’s as dangerous as it is,” Ron gulped.

“Well it is, Ronald, so don’t bother me, “Hermione responded, laying the diadem down on the floor and handling the potion to Harry, who took it gingerly.

He lifted up the vial to face level and inspected it curiously. “So this will destroy the horcrux?” he asked, unbelieving.

“It will melt it down until there’s nothing left,” Hermione nodded as she spoke. “It’s Dindellum’s Acid. Can destroy any object that is controlled by dark magic.”

Ron grunted as he admired the concept. “Bloody hell.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and yanked Ron’s arm as they moved away from Harry and the horcrux. “Remember, Harry,” Hermione started.

“I know, I know,” Harry broke her off. “Run away from it as soon as I poor the potion on.”

“And don’t forget to levitate it! The potion will cling the diadem, so don’t worry about the floor…” Hermione continued to rattle off instructions, but Harry ignored her as he flicked his wand and the glittering crown rose into the air in front of him as if pulled by strings. And there, directly at the level of his chest, the horcrux floated.

He uncorked the vial and raised it above the diadem, ready to pour it upon the metal and rid the world forever of one shard of Voldemort’s soul.

He was scared, admittedly, of what was going to happen. They’d had no dark items to test the potion on, so there was no telling what would happen… if it would backfire. He heard Hermione cough pointedly behind him and, steeling himself, he tipped the potion and watched with a morbid fascination as the shimmering blue liquid fell onto the crown and latched itself to it like slimy fingers, covering every inch of the silver until it was now what appeared to be a floating ring of goo.

“Harry get away from it!” Hermione shouted.

But Harry was entranced. The diadem began to shiver and shake, and a small trail of steam began to spiral upwards. He narrowed his eyes. Was that a scream?

“Harry!”

The diadem was spinning violently now, its turns and twist so fast that Harry’s eyes lost track of how many times it danced through the air. A garbled shout sounded in his mind and his scar was set on fire. He let out a cry of pain and felt someone tugging at the back of his shirt. He didn’t budge. His feet felt nailed to the floor. The hand slipped away.

A cloud of smoke as big as Harry himself began to form. He could no longer see the horcrux, but he could still hear the angry yells that seemed to come from within the mist.

The fog sizzled and twisted as if gusts of wind were propelling it, and then, in one split second, Harry was inside it.

He howled in agony that resembled the pain of the Cruciatus curse as the smoke scalded his skin. It soaked into his flesh and his eyes snapped open, unseeing as the furious fog sunk into him, branding him; burning him.

A voice whispered to him.

_You cannot touch me._

And then, it was over.

Harry fell to his knees, sobbing as his entire body throbbed and protested. His skin felt stretched and unwelcome, as if it were a trap and not his own flesh.

It took him a few minutes to realize that Hermione was shaking him and Ron was screaming his name. The raven-haired wizard struggled valiantly to focus his eyes and they finally rest upon his friends’ frightened faces.

“Oh thank goodness!” Hermione cried. “Harry what happened? We couldn’t see you and all we heard was you screaming…”

Harry couldn’t respond. He was still trying to push away the pain. His skin was just tingling now.

“Mate?” Ron knelt down to face Harry. “Are you ok?”

Harry nodded and realized that he hadn’t blinked for quite sometime.

“We should take you to Madame Pomphrey before we leave. She should check you over before-“

Hermione was cut off by a muffled shout. Then another, and another. They were coming from the halls outside the room.

Fearing the worst, the three hurried to the door of the Room of Requirement, Ron supporting Harry as the latter took one last look at where the horcrux had been. All that was left now was a burn mark on the floor. The voice he’d heard while in the smoke echoed through his mind. It had been Voldemort’s voice.

_You cannot touch me._

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 **  
Come on, where are the reviews? Give me cookie or something! I’ll pout if you don’t! No one likes it when I pout, either. Scary sight.**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr  
**


	5. Taction

_I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind_  
There was something so pleasant about that place.  
Even your emotions have an echo  
In so much space 

_And when you're out there_  
Without care,  
Yeah, I was out of touch  
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough  
I just knew too much 

_Does that make me crazy?_  
Does that make me crazy?  
Does that make me crazy?  
Probably 

_And I hope that you are having the time of your life  
But think twice, that's my only advice_

_Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,_

_Ha ha ha bless your soul  
You really think you're in control_

_Well, I think you're crazy_  
I think you're crazy  
I think you're crazy  
Just like me 

_My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb_  
And all I remember is thinking, I wanna be like them  
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun  
And it's no coincidence I've come  
And I can die when I'm done 

_But maybe I'm crazy_  
Maybe you're crazy  
Maybe we're crazy  
Probably 

_-Gnarls Barkley – Crazy_  
  
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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 5- Taction

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked out of the Room of Requirement only to be nearly run over by panicking students. They were so scared that they didn’t even notice the trio as they ran by, some crying and others yelling.

“Gods,” Ron muttered, still supporting Harry by holding his friend’s arm around his shoulders. “What’s going on? Not another attack I hope,” he swallowed dryly, remembering the last time Death Eaters had come to Hogwarts.

Minerva McGonagall ran around the corner just as he said this. Upon catching sight of them, she let out a sigh of relief and rushed towards them. At seeing Harry’s weak form leaning against the lanky Weasley, she let out a motherly hoot. “What in the world has happened to you?”

Harry opened his mouth to say it was nothing, but she continued to speak as if she’d not even asked him the question. “You three must leave here at once!” She gestured vigorously down the corridor.

“What’s happened Prof-… I mean, Minerva?” Hermione seemed to choke on her former teacher’s first name. It was odd to say her name, but that was an oddness reserved to be thought on another time, as she realized that, though at first glance the Headmistress merely seemed flustered, upon further inspection the old woman was quite terrified.

“Voldemort is here!” Minerva answered breathlessly. “He is out on the grounds as we speak! Potter, take your friends and leave now.”

“How could he have known?!” Harry exclaimed, pulling away from Ron and straightening as if he’d not just been through physical torture moments ago. The tingling had still not left his flesh, but he ignored it. “Are the grounds being watched?”

“Are we being watched?” Ron whispered as he was sickened with the realization that they were, most likely, being watched. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but now that he thought about it, it was completely logical. Of course Voldemort had Death Eaters watching them.

“Has anyone been hurt?” Harry demanded of the Headmistress, a familiar expression of determination gracing his features.

“No, there were some students out on the ground, but he ignored them. He seems to have a specific person in mind,” Minerva said, eyeing Harry severely.

Harry frowned. “Well then I guess I’ll give him what he wants,” he growled, starting towards the entrance of the castle.

“Harry! Don’t be ridiculous!” Hermione latched onto his shirt sleeve tightly. “Don’t go to your death!”

Harry froze for a minute. She was right. He couldn’t just barge out and meet the most dangerous wizard in history. It was reckless, foolish…

_You cannot touch me._

The voice mocked him again and Harry’s Gryffindor rage overtook him. Yanking his arm free, he took off in a sprint down the hall. He didn’t want to fight him right now. He just... he had to see him. The man who’d haunted every night of his sleep, who ruled his days, and had become his obsession--his motivation. That man; that horrible, malicious, murderous man; was the reason Harry was who he was today. He drove his every action. All that Harry planned, desired, and worked for was because of Voldemort.

He had to see him. It had been so long since he’d seen the reptilian Lord that he’d almost become a surreal dream; unreal, like an old memory that had dramatized itself over time. Harry had almost forgotten why he was fighting. What he was fighting.

He didn’t quite understand it, but as the feet of his friends slapped the marble floors behind him, he knew that he just had to see. He had to reestablish reality. He had to feel that hate again so that he could keep going. After all, it was hate of Voldemort that drove him—and fear.

He skid to a stop at the huge doors of the entrance. That’s where he remembered himself. He also fought because of love. His love for his friends.

He whirled around to face Ron and Hermione who had just slid to a stop beside him, red-faced and afraid. “I want you two to stay here,” he said authoritatively, hoping that just this once they would listen.

“Quit saying that, mate,” Ron retorted, pulling out his wand.

“It’s never worked before Harry, so stop trying,” Hermione finished, sliding her wand out of her robe’s pocket.

He felt a surge of affection for them, but it was drenched over by the cold dread in his gut and a renewed burning in his scar. They turned to the door.

“Is this it?” Ron inquired, “I thought it’d be a bit more climactic.”

Harry shook his head. “No, Ron. I don’t think this is it. It’s just the beginning.”

The readied themselves and, without another word, pushed open the doors to face whatever was waiting for them outside.

They walked slowly into the entrance courtyard, wands raised and ready to cast spells within moments. It was abandoned, however, and as they eased into the empty courtyard, where no sound but the birds overhead echoed into the stone pillars, they began to doubt the validity of the students’ sighting.

They had reached the end of the courtyard and sighed, daring to lower their wands. “Perhaps they were wrong,” Harry ventured, turning around to face his friends when they did not answer him. “Guys? Hey!”

Ron and Hermione were currently wrestling two gargantuan Death Eaters, whose fat arms were locked in choke-holds around the two teens’ necks. Harry looked around frantically, his wand swinging left and right.

“Looking for me?”

Harry recognized the voice instantly as the warm breath hit his ear and a chill crept down his spine. “Tom,” Harry spat.

“I do wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Voldemort sighed, throwing on a falsely offended look as he rounded Harry and stuck his wand in the young wizard’s face. “It’s rather rude.”

“It’s your name isn’t it?” Harry replied harshly, gritting his teeth as he fought against the urge to fall to his knees. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was petrified.

“Once,” the Dark Lord replied, smirking suddenly. “Do you fear me Harry?” His voice was a cold whisper; taunting.

Harry didn’t reply. Instead, he raised his wand, a spell on his lips.

“Crucio!” Voldemort cried.

Harry reeled, falling to the stone ground and convulsing as excruciating pain wracked every nerve of his body. It stopped as quickly as it had begun.  
”That was also very rude,” Tom Riddle snapped, glaring down at Harry’s shivering form.

Harry wanted to reply, but he couldn’t find the ability and he just laid there, spasming in the memory of pain. Voldemort chuckled. “I just drop by to say hello and you attack me,” he quipped. “How very hostile. Do you have a lot of pent up frustration, Harry?”

Harry ignored the Dark Lord’s jeering taunts and he pushed himself to his feet, quivering. He glanced over at his friends. They’d given up fighting against the brutish Death Eaters who held them captive and they watched him with shining eyes of worry and fear. Harry raised his wand again. “What do you want?” he snarled, willing himself to stare unblinkingly into the red eyes before him.

“That’s simple,” the older wizard responded, “I want you to die.” He waved his wand around a bit as if demonstrating. “It’s really quite easy, Harry. Why don’t you just oblige?” The Death Eaters behind him chuckled, but he silenced them with an icy glare. Turning back to Harry, he smiled; a cold, demented, unforgiving smile.

“Kill me then,” Harry uttered boldly. He had no idea where the statement had come from, and he looked down at his wand in shock, as if the length of wood had forced him to speak.

Another mirthless chuckle. “No, I don’t feel like it today. As I said,” Tom placed the tip of his wand against Harry’s lightning scar. “I just came for a quick visit.”

Harry felt a rush of fury and he batted the wand away, ignoring Voldemort’s look of sheer ire as he did so. “You can’t touch me!” He hollered, surprised to find himself echoing the voice of the horcrux.

The dark wizard’s eyes were outraged, but his face remained a stony calm. “Oh, but I can,” he whispered dangerously. Without another second for thought, Tom lunged out and grabbed Harry’s throat violently, shoving him against a stone pillar. “Easily,” he hissed. To his annoyance and confusion, however, Harry seemed to have cared less about the fact that his hand was now wrapped around the boy’s windpipe. Instead, the emerald eyes were staring in shock at his face, as if he’d never seen the Dark Lord before.

“What are you looking at?” Voldemort barked, shaking Harry’s neck a bit to refocus the boy’s attention. It was by that action that Tom himself realized the reason for Potter’s awe. His skin, as it clenched around Harry’s thin throat, was no longer a milky jade. It was a pale tan with a bit of pink flushed throughout it. It was normal.

A wisp of wind fell through the courtyard and Voldemort started as he felt something move atop his head. Hair? He resisted the temptation to reach up and run his fingers through it, and with an unreadable expression and wide eyes, he recoiled, jerking his hand back from Harry as if the boy’s skin was poison.

Immediately he saw his skin fade back to a misty green and no longer did hair rest atop his head. He was the snake-like lord once more. He almost felt like he’d been deprived of something. Anger overtook him. “What magic is this, Potter?” he snarled, raising his wand to threaten the younger wizard.

Harry’s face slowly melted into a dawning understanding as he stood there, staring in the noseless, sallow face that glared daggers at him. As soon as the Dark Lord had grabbed his neck, his features had changed in the flicker of a thought. It had happened so quickly that Harry had to blink a few times before reality set in. No longer had the hairless, reptilian face been in front of him. Harry knew, somehow, that it was still Voldemort who stood before him, but he had changed. And the change was familiar. With a grudging understanding and horror that accompanied it, Harry realized that the face that had surfaced only moments ago on Voldemort’s own skin had been the face of the man in his dreams a few nights before. Normally, this would have explained things, but Harry found that he was only growing more confused by the second.

Voldemort had looked human. But how? It was almost as unfathomable as Harry himself turning green-skinned and noseless. He jerked back to reality when Voldemort snapped at him again. Was that confusion in the man’s voice? Fear?

“What magic was that boy?” Tom bellowed again. “I will kill you now if you do not answer me!”

“I… I don’t know!” Harry shouted back, stammering a bit after his moment of contemplative silence.

“You lie!” Riddle did not move though. Harry almost thought he saw a flicker of indecision pass over the red eyes and he moved slightly, deciding against coming closer to Harry. Was Voldemort afraid to touch him now?

“I’m not lying!” Harry answered, feeling as frustrated as the man in front of him. “I don’t know what happened. You were there same as me. I didn’t cast any spell!”

Voldemort’s face contorted for a second, furious thoughts flying through his mind. What had happened? Had that really been his flesh? The flesh that he would have had if not for his unceremonious defeat 16 years ago?

Tom scowled. He did not understand what interaction had passed between him and Harry, and it would not do to display his confusion in front of his enemy. The boy was a terrible liar, and he had not attempted to use that poor skill in his responses to Voldemort. Harry had no idea what was going on. That much was obvious They were in the same boat.

Refusing to think further on this until he was back within the quiet sanctity of his manor, the Dark Lord opened his mouth to bid the teen farewell. “Until next time, Harry Potter.” With that, he spun around to nod at his followers. And in a swirl of black smoke and surreal tension, the three had disappeared into the afternoon.

Harry’s hand tentatively touched his neck, realizing only now that it was burning. His head throbbed with pain from his scar and he felt ill. His comrades stood there, regarding him silently as the three of them digested what they had just witnessed.

What in the name of Merlin’s shaggy, old beard had just happened?

Harry shook his head as if to clear it. His thoughts were rampant and panicked. Had that been some kind of old, dark magic?

“I think we better get back to the house, mate,” Ron suggested, walking over to Harry and resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You look bloody worn out.”

Hermione nodded in agreement and joined them. They linked their arms together and walked back out to the grounds, not even thinking to stop by Hagrid’s before they disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.

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**Yeah, it was a bit short, but it kind of had to be that way for the event that took place. Some chapters will be long; others short. I’ve decided on not forcing words to come when they just won’t. Hey, if worse comes to worse, short chapters mean more chapters! Woo! -runs around in circles-**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr**


	6. Acumen

**A/N: A few of you might not understand some of my song choices for a few chapters. I assure you though, they were all chosen for a reason. Some might seem corny or not fit the story at the time, but I don’t refer the songs specifically to the chapters they’re in. They’re about the entire story in general, so if you don’t understand a song at the time you read it, you will understand it later.**

**A/N 2: Also, this is the first time I’m going to do this, but I’m willing to consider suggestions for what you all want to happen in the story. Yes, I have most of what’s going to happen already planned out. The main plots points and huge events are set, but I’m willing to consider and possibly add and suggestions you might have, so feel free to throw ideas at me!**

**Now, enjoy! Slash still isn’t coming for a bit, but it’s close. I want to keep them in character, so I’ve got to be at last somewhat realistic here. :P**

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 _  
Watched my life pass me by_

_in the rearview mirror_

_Pictures frozen in time_

_are becoming clearer_

_I don't wanna waste another day_

_stuck in the shadow of my mistakes_

_Cause I want you_

_and I feel you_

_crawling underneath my skin_

_Like a hunger, like a burnin_

_to find a place I've never been_

_Now I'm broken, and I'm faded_

_I'm half the man I thought I would be_

_But you can have_

_what's left of me._

_I've been dying inside_

_little by little_

_Nowhere to go_

_I'm goin outta my mind_

_An endless circle_

_runnin from myself until_

_You gave me a reason for standing still_

_And I want you_

_and I feel you_

_crawling underneath my skin_

_Like a hunger, like a burnin_

_to find the place I've never been_

_Now I'm broken, and I'm faded_

_I'm half the man I thought I would be_

_But you can have_

_what's left of me._

_Fallin' faster_

_barely breathing_

_Give me somethin to believe in_

_Tell me it's not all in my head_

_Take what's left of this man_

_Make me whole once again_

_Cause I want you_

_and I feel you_

_crawling underneath my skin_

_Like a hunger, like a burnin_

_to find the place I've never been_

_Now I'm broken, and I'm faded_

_I'm half the man I thought I would be_

_You can have, all that's left, what's left of me_

_I've been dying inside you see_

_I'm goin outta my mind_

_I'm just runnin' in circles all the time_

_-Nick Lachey – What’s Left of Me_

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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 6- Acumen

Harry’s heart was racing as he tossed and turned in his bead. His mind kept stretching back to the event in the stone courtyard of Hogwarts. He and his friends had tried for days to figure out what had happened when Voldemort had touched him. So far, they’d found no answers.

As if there wasn’t enough going on in regards to Harry and the Dark Lord touching skin to skin. First, it had crumbled the dark wizard’s very physical foundation. Then it had caused Harry immense physical pain. Now it turned Riddle into… into what exactly? Was that what Tom was truly meant to look like? If not for the reincarnation in the graveyard. If not for the failed Avada Kedavra of 16 years ago…

Was the man Harry had seen in his dreams and now in reality the true face of Lord Voldemort?

Harry shook his head into the pillow. He had to stop thinking about this. He’d had enough of the subject for today.

Earlier that afternoon, the Weasley twins had come to visit the trio at Grimmauld Place. Ron told them of occurrences of the days previous and Harry explained about his dream. The twins seemed to think it was unimportant.

“So you’re saying Voldemort is the man of your dreams, Harry?” Fred… or maybe George had joked, prodding the teen in the arm playfully. Harry’d forced himself to ignore the twins’ humor, focusing in stead on a plan to obtain Helga Hufflepuff’s cup.

The rest of his day had been spent talking to Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks about where possible locations that Voldemort would want to keep something hidden. He hadn’t told them, of course, what exactly he was looking for, but the werewolf had guessed easily enough. After all, Harry hadn’t been exactly bright in asking Remus to bring him books on horcruxes. He was still cursing himself for that mistake.

Lupin, being the patient and understanding man that he was, had understood not to ask Harry questions, and though Harry’s quest was most obvious, they still spoke as if the older man was ignorant of Harry’s goals.

Harry rolled over once more, growling in frustration. He simply couldn’t stop thinking. How was he supposed to sleep with his mind running at two-hundred miles an hour? Sighing, he sat up in the dark room, defeated.

Grabbing his glasses and shoving them a bit too forcefully onto his nose, he padded in his bare feet out to the hall, heading down the stairs to the kitchen. If he wasn’t going to sleep, he might as well have a snack and do a bit of extra research. He couldn’t stand not doing something in his waking hours. He liked to be occupied.

The young wizard reached the kitchen and the candles above in the hanging lamps flickered on. Kreacher was rummaging around in his cabinet. He’d stolen back a few more Black heirlooms, no doubt. At hearing the slide of Harry’s feet on the wood, the gnarled elf started and turned around with a scowl.

“What’s dirty master Potter doing up at this hour?” Kreacher asked with a groan.

“Don’t call me dirty,” Harry muttered absently.

“I didn’t say nothing like that, Master,” Kreacher replied lowly, grumbling afterwards: “But he is dirty. Filthy muggle-love in poor Mistress’s home.”

Harry ignored the elf’s pointless ramblings and sat down at the table. Suddenly, a gut-wrenching pain cut through his forehead and he was no longer looking at the scraped surface of the kitchen table, but down at the placid face of Severus Snape. A fury cut through him, and only part of it was his own emotion.

A high, cold voice cut through his mind. Was it coming from his own lips? No, it was Voldemort speaking. He was having another vision.

“Have you found nothing?” Tom hissed lethally, narrowing his red eyes at Snape, whose expression remained stony.

“No, my Lord,” the potions master replied. “I’ve never heard of anything like this. I need more time to research it-“

“You’ve been given five days!” Voldemort snapped. “How is this not enough time to research. Are you studying this as thoroughly as you tell me? What are you hiding, Severus?” His tone was low and dangerous.

“I hide nothing from you, my Lord,” Snape answered dutifully. “This is simply unheard of magic. And I was not there to witness the incident, so I am running of very little information.”

“I’ve already explained it to you,” the Dark Lord retorted, “Numerous times. The boy touched me and my body was no longer the one you see before you. I was, to put in the most crude way possible, normal. You tell me that something so distinct cannot be found in my entire library or yours?”

“My Lord,” Severus began carefully, bowing his head slightly, “Though at first glance this seems to be simple magic, at further research it is extremely complex. Perhaps it could have been an illusionary charm, such as a powerful glamour, but you said that you could feel the changes physically, which means a glamour would have been impossible.” He took a breath, shifted his position, and continued. “It could have been some sorted of human transfiguration. However, I’ve known Potter for many years and he has never been capable of such magic. Granger might possibly have been able to cast such a spell, but as you tell me, she was restrained and wandless at the time, and none of them know wandless magic as far as I know.”

“Well then extend your knowledge!” Voldemort snarled, whipping out his wand quickly and pointing it directly at Snape’s throat. The Death Eater looked unfazed. “Find out why they were at Hogwarts. What has Potter been doing? What has he been training? Find this out for me or you will be punished!”

“I no longer have contact with anyone from the Order. They would turn me into the Ministry should I come near them or Potter. Since the death of the Headmast-“

“You are on of my Death Eaters!” Voldemort roared conclusively, as if this statement explained everything. “Contacts are no longer necessary. Find out a way to monitor Harry Potter. No excuses. Find reason to disobey me and I will not take it lightly.” His wand twitched a bit in his hand. He longed to cast the Cruciatus, merely because he was so frustrated with his lack of answers or explanations. However, it would not do to weaken Severus at the moment. If Severus returned with no information once more, perhaps then he would torture him.

Snape nodded brusquely and bowed. “As you wish, my Lord.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open. He was on the floor and Kreacher was staring at him disdainfully. Apparently he had passed out.

Bloody visions.

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Voldemort paced back and forth in his quarters. The flicker of the fireplace silhouetted him, separating his figure from the lush fabrics of his room and making him seem a ghost. Wrinkles in his forehead were deep and he furrowed his brows in thought and, though he would not consciously admit it, confusion and fear.

If even Severus, one of his most intelligent followers, could not find an explanation for the result of his touching Harry Potter, then this was truly a formidable magic. And, if Potter knew such magic, how much else did the boy know that he did not? This would not do. He could not let such a child overcome him. He could not allow him to have an advantage.

It simply would not do.

If Severus could not find answers, perhaps it was once again time for the Dark Lord to take matters into his own hands. It wouldn’t be difficult to find out where the young wizard was. Their mental connection had grown strong. It was pathetically simple for him to slip into Harry’s mind.

This time he would not have his Death Eaters accompany him. They did not even need to be informed. They’d just incessantly bother him anyway. It was as if they thought him to be a child, always needing protection. It would be easy enough to do it on his own, without the hassle of followers.

Polyjuice potion or even a strong glamour would do the trick. He could lure Harry away from his friends and torture him until the boy admitted to him what magic he had cast in the courtyard. Tom was sure it had been some sort of spell. As soon as he’d touched Potter’s throat he’d felt his skin shiver at the touch. It was a harsh tingling that was close to the sensation of being burned. The only explanation for that could be magic. A spell.

Maybe he would touch the boy again. The contact had been so sudden and quick before that he’d no had time to really study the occurrence.

It was possible, of course, that extended touch could result in some kind of injury; either to Potter or Voldemort himself. But he was not worried about that. He’d come back from death more than once. He would not be done in just by touching someone.

He ran spidery fingers over the smooth top of his head, taking a hissing breath through the slits on his face that acted as a nose. He wasn’t very sure if Potter ever parted with his friends, but it wouldn’t be that difficult to lure him away, if only for a moment. By the time he had his hands on the boy his friends would be unable to do anything.

He wondered why he didn’t just kill the boy then, fleetingly, but his thoughts came back to him soon after that contemplation. He had to sate his curiosity; and to kill Harry now, while both armies of the war were still being built, would be anti-climactic. It would make an impact, but not as great a one as if he killed him right at the brink of battle.

No, he had other plans than immediate destruction. He wanted to go slowly. The more time he took, the more his enemies suffered. It was simple enough logic.

He pinched the corners of his eyes and pictured the incident of the courtyard once more before he relinquished his ponderings and set off towards his study, focusing on seeing where Harry Potter was going next.

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Harry yawned lethargically, waking up for the second time that day in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. He lifted his head and felt something tug at it. His cheek was stuck to the page of a book. Peeling the paper away from his skin, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. Ron was already at the table, shoveling eggs into his endless pit of a stomach. He glanced up at hearing the crackle of paper and smiled with his eyes, considering his mouth was a bit full.

“I figuwed you nedded da sweep,” Ron said through his mouthful of eggs. “So I dinnint wake you.”

“I did need the sleep,” Harry agreed, stretching his back. It had gotten cramped form the odd sleeping position. “I’ve been having a terrible time getting to bed.”

“So you came down to the kitchen?”

Harry turned at the voice. Hermione was standing in the kitchen’s doorway. She was dressed in her good robes. Seeing Harry’s bemused look, Hermione smiled. “We’re going out,” she said, looking positively thrilled.

Harry looked at her dumbly. Was now really ton time to waltz about town and go shopping?

“Oh it’s not as if it’s not for a reason.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “We’re going to Diagon Alley. We’ve got to get some things from the Apothecary, among other places.”

“Why’re you looking so thrilled to go to the Apothecary?” Harry inquired. “I didn’t know you liked potions that much.”

Hermione crossed her arms in mock impatience, but Ron beat her to speaking.

“I think she’s just happy to get out of this place, mate,” he said, prodding his toast with a fork. “I’m with her on that one.”

Ron had taken a bit more to speaking after their visit to Hogwarts. It seemed that all he needed was to see the old school one last time so that he could get over it. Harry and Hermione were grateful for the change. It was awfully disturbing to live with such a quiet Weasley.

Harry nodded. It would be nice to get out of Grimmauld Place. He hadn’t been to Diagon Alley in quite a while. It’d be nice to have one fairly normal day. “When do we leave?” he asked.

“As soon as you’ve eaten breakfast,” Hermione answered, walking across the kitchen and smiling at Kreacher, who promptly turned his expression into an even deeper scowl and scurried away quickly as if he feared attack.

Hermione looked crestfallen.

“I don’t see why you expect anything else out of him, ‘Mione,” Ron said shrugging.

“I feel so sorry for him!” she cried out, making both Ron and Harry shake their heads in amused disbelief.

“No need to feel sorry for him,” Harry stated, glancing at the door from which Kreacher had taken his leave. “He’s bloody crazy, that one.”

Ron snorted in agreement.

Hermione frowned and looked affronted, stalking out of the room pointedly and sticking her nose up into the air.

Ron stared after her. “She’s about as crazy as that little monster! Pitying him! She’s mental.”

Harry grinned and nodded, grabbing a plate of food and digging in.

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 **  
Lalalalalala…….. nothing much happened here, but it’s setting stuff up, so I suppose it was a necessary chapter.**

**Toodleoo for now!**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr  
**


	7. Criterion

_What if I wanted to break_  
Laugh it all off in your face  
What would you do?  
What if I fell to the floor?  
Couldn't take this anymore  
What would you do,do,do? 

_Come break me down_  
Bury me, bury me  
I am finished with you 

_What if I wanted to fight_  
Beg for the rest of my life  
What would you do?  
You say you wanted more  
What are you waiting for?  
I'm not running from you 

_Come break me down_  
Bury me, bury me  
I'm finished with you  
Look in my eyes  
You're killing me, killing me  
All I wanted was you 

_I tried to be someone else_  
But nothing seemed to change  
I know now, this is who I really am inside  
Finally found myself  
Fighting for a chance  
I know now, this is who I really am 

_Come break me down_  
Bury me, bury me  
I am finished with you,you, you  
Look in my eyes  
You're killing me, killing me  
All I wanted was you 

_Come break me down_  
Break me down  
Break me down 

_What if I wanted to break?_

_What if I wanted to break_  
Laugh it all off in your face  
What would you do?  
What if I fell to the floor?  
Couldn't take this anymore  
What would you do,do,do? 

_Come break me down_  
Bury me, bury me  
I'm finished with you 

_What if I wanted to fight_  
Beg for the rest of my life  
What would you do?  
You say you wanted more  
What are you waiting for?  
I'm not running from you 

_Come break me down_  
Bury me, bury me  
I am finished with you  
Look in my eyes  
You're killing me, killing me  
All I wanted was you 

_I tried to be someone else_  
But nothing seemed to change  
I know now, this is who I really am inside  
Finally found myself  
Fighting for a chance  
I know now, this is who I really am 

_Come break me down_  
Bury me, bury me  
I am finished with you, you, you  
Look in my eyes  
You're killing me, killing me  
All I wanted was you 

_Come break me down_  
Break me down  
Break me down 

_What if I wanted to break?_

_-30 Seconds to Mars – The Kill_  
  
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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 7- Criterion

Severus Snape trekked slowly up the alabaster steps of Malfoy Manor, his ebony hair twisting around his head in the soft wind. His face was chilled and blank as ever as he stared at the mahogany doors for a moment, seemingly contemplating something. With one arm he grabbed his heavy traveling cloak and pulled it more closely around him. With the other, he rapped solidly on the door three times and waited until it was answered by no other than Draco Malfoy.

The boy was tall and lean and the days had worn on him. He face was narrow and much bonier than before. He’d grown pale and weary, and his silver eyes stared at nothing, as if he was blind. Severus felt some amount of pity for him. The young Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark to sate the Dark Lord, but he had not wanted to; not in the least.

The potions master mustered a sort of half smile for his godson and nodded curtly at him. Draco stepped aside to allow him entrance.  
”Why are you answering the door, Draco?” Severus inquired as he stepped onto the gorgeous marble floors. It had been a long time since he’d been here.  
”All the elves have gone,” Draco murmured softly, shutting the front doors. “Father let them go when I was twelve. I don’t know why, though.”

Severus nodded. Had it really been five years since he’d set foot in Malfoy manor? Yes, it had really been that long. He asked the teen where his father was and the platinum blonde pointed towards the study to the left of the winding staircase of the entranceway.

Snape followed the slim finger and stepped softly onto the plush carpet of the illustrious study. Lucius Malfoy definitely had impeccable taste—the kind of taste that could only come with money. He smirked at the sight of his old friend in an armchair, reading glasses perched upon his slender nose and staring down into a book. The elder Malfoy never admitted to needing glasses. Only his family and Severus knew of this imperfection.

Said Malfoy looked up, his gray eyes widening slightly in surprise at seeing Snape. A smile curled onto his pale face and he set his book down. He rose gracefully and crossed the room in three swift steps. His long blonde hair was tied back and it cascaded down his back. He tilted his head and opened his arms in welcome that was an uncustomary display of kindness for a Malfoy.

“Old friend,” he practically purred. “What could possibly have brought you here?”

Snape clasped his hands on either shoulder of Lucius briefly and he followed the man into the study to sit. Crossing his legs, Lucius stared at Severus expectantly.

“I’m here to talk about something regarding the lion,” the raven-haired man said cryptically.

Immediately, Lucius’ face turned serious and he stood, glancing around at the fireplace, mirror above it, and the doorway in quick succession. He removed his ebony wand from his staff and flicked the snake-headed stick at the fireplace. The flames died the wood went cold. He then cast a silencing charm on the door and a disillusionment on the mirror. Sliding the wand back into its holster, his sat back down smoothly. “Speak,” he said simply.

“Ah, so he watches you through the mirror now, I see,” Severus stated, observing the antique above the hearth.

Lucius nodded. “It’s a looking glass of sorts. He uses it to check in on me,” he muttered with a grimace. “You think that after all the loyalty I’ve shown him he would trust me a sliver more than he does, but alas.” He shook his head in dismissal.

“The Dark Lord trusts no one but himself,” Snape answered, looking at the blonde and steepling his fingers under his chin. “Now, about Potter.”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed. They deduced long ago to refer to Harry Potter as the lion, deeming it fitting. Only the two of them new of this code. Not even Lucius’ wife was in on the secret, as they were not sure of her true loyalties. Draco remained uninformed due to his age and poor Occlumency skills.

They’d established, after many quiet and secretive battles of mentality, that both Lucius and Severus were not truly loyal to the Dark Lord. Severus had stayed in the ranks for the sake of Albus Dumbledore and the idea of future redemption. Lucius had remained out of fear and the necessity to protect his family.

Neither of them liked Harry Potter. In fact, they were both severely annoyed with the brat and regarded him with the utmost distaste; but they did have an unspoken confidence in the young wizard; a confidence that one day Harry would defeat Voldemort and save them all. As such, they’d worked for years to protect the boy, and they were confident that their efforts had not yet been noticed by their master.

“I am sure you are aware that the Dark Lord decided to pay Potter a visit,” Severus began. Lucius nodded almost imperceptibly. “At the encounter, a most peculiar thing happened. He has not discussed this incident with anyone but those who were present and myself.” Lucius nodded again. This meant that he would not be able to admit to being aware of the situation. Simple enough.

“I do not understand what happened,” Snape said, frowning, “But the Dark Lord has requested... or ordered, rather, that I deduce the reasoning behind the situation. Apparently, from what he has told me, when he touched Potter his own body underwent a sort of transformation.”

The elder Malfoy twitched slightly. This sounded most intriguing. “Is the transformation still in effect.

“No. That’s the most perplexing part. As soon as he was no longer in physical contact with the boy, he returned to normal.” Severus rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “The Dark Lord is furious. He believes that Potter has learned an ancient magic of some sort; one that the Dark Lord himself is not even familiar with. For all I know, that may be the case.”

Lucius turned towards the lifeless fireplace in thought. This was not good. A threatened Voldemort was a dangerous ones. He would most likely attempt to attack Potter out of fury for his lack of knowledge. That simply would not do. It was not yet time. “Explain this transformation to me,” he prompted, turning back to the other wizard.

“From what I heard, the Dark Lord became what he referred to as ‘normal’,” Severus stated lamely, raising his palm in a sort of shrug. “He said that he’d had hair, and nose, and skin like the rest of us.”

Lucius couldn’t help but chuckle. The Dark Lord with a nose? Unthinkable!

“I do not think that Potter did this to him on purpose,” Snape continued. “I know the boy well enough to understand that he is not capable of such magic. At least not purposefully. I believe that the boy is most likely just as confused as the Dark Lord.”

“If the boy does not know what happened, how are we to find out ourselves?” Malfoy questioned, looking pensive.

“Potter was at Hogwarts when this took place,” Severus responded, shifting in his seat. “I know for a fact that he no longer attends the school, so he must have been there for a purpose. Perhaps if we find out that purpose, we can find out what happened to cause this. We know full well that he and the Dark Lord have some sort of connection. Though the Dark Lord speaks very little of it, I’ve gathered enough to know that it’s mostly mental. Perhaps the boy accidentally breached the physical aspects of the bond.”

Lucius stroked his smooth chin and sighed. “How do you suggest we enter Hogwarts unnoticed? Dumbledore may be gone, but it is still very well protected.”

Severus chuckled, earning a surprised look from his comrade. “I never said that we would go as ourselves,” he whispered, a glint in his dark eyes.

Lucius’ eyes gleamed. For a moment, he felt as if he and the sallow man before him were once again schoolboys, planning some wicked scheme to trick the professors of Hogwarts.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Harry’s shoes clapped against the stone ground, inaudible within the chatters of the crowds of witches and wizards around them. Hermione had cast a Notice Me Not charm on him so that he could walk alongside them without being bothered or easily spotted. Only if someone was looking directly for Harry would they be able to see him, and seeing as absolutely no one would expect the Boy-Who-Lived to be wandering idly down Diagon Alley, they figured this was foolproof enough.

They stopped by Quality Quidditch Supplies first and Hermione lingered back as the boys “Oohed” and “Awwed” and rolled her eyes in amusement as they poked and prodded all the brooms they could find. After they had their fill, the dropped by Flourish and Blotts and it was the boys’ turn to stand back with their arms crossed impatiently as Hermione breathed excitedly over numerous books.

Finally, they found themselves at the Apothecary and Hermione fussed over ingredients and pre-made potions, searching for the necessary additions to the potions they would need for the rest of their journey. Healing potions, polyjuice, and other dark magic inhibitors.

When she was finally done, Harry gave her the necessary money to purchase the items and they left, chattering happily to one another. The relief of being out of their house at Grimmauld Place and in a familiar area from their childhood was relaxing and almost satisfying. They felt happy and comfortable for the first time in weeks.

“Let’s stop to get ice cream,” Ron suggested.

“Is food all you ever think about, Ronald?” Hermione chided, grinning at the redhead.

Ron nodded decisively. “A wizard has to eat. It’s necessity, Hermione.”

Harry smiled at his two best friends and followed them to the ice-cream parlor. He stepped aside to let his friends enter and started up the stairs himself, caught short when a tiny hand grabbed his shoulder. Rattled, Harry turned to see a little old lady staring triumphantly up at him. She had a maroon shawl over her shoulders and her wispy gray hair was pulled back into a ridiculously tight bun. She smiled and Harry cringed. She was missing most of her teeth and the ones that remained were glossy and yellow.

“Um.. can I help you?” Harry asked, trying to tug his arm away.

“Certainly!” she squeaked giddily. “You see, you already have helped me.” She eyed him wickedly. “By casting a Notice Me Not Charm on yourself, you’ve made it so that when I apparate you away, no one will notice.” Her toothless grin widened and Harry felt a strange sense of confused fear. Why was an old lady wanting to kidnap him? He tried to pull away again, but her grip was disturbingly strong. He felt a cold grip of panic before the lady turned on the spot and the disapparated.

Harry hated the feeling. It was like being pulled through a pipe. It was practically as bad as traveling through portkey. They stopped suddenly and Harry, dazed, staggered on his feet. When the world stopped spinning, he looked around him. The old lady was staring at him with a sort of hateful but victorious edge. He groaned when he realized where he was.

It was the graveyard from the Triwizard Tournament.

It looked different now. It was daylight and the graveyard was flooded with clear sunlight. The grass didn’t echo an eerie blue-gray like before and there was no mist floating above the headstones. That didn’t make the place any less chilling. Harry shivered and looked back at the woman, who, he realized with an unsurprised horror, was beginning to grow taller, her flesh bubbling.

It wasn’t unexpected when Lord Voldemort slowly appeared before him, but he still felt sick with fear and confusion, nonetheless. He felt a stab of anger and venom.

“I didn’t know you like to cross-dress, Tom,” He said tauntingly, knowing it was not best to provoke him, but not really caring.

Voldemort’s smirk changed to a nasty frown and he waved his hand, transfiguring the old lady’s dress back to his ghostly black robes.

“Well since the muggle is now dead, I didn’t see that she would need her garb any longer,” Tom hissed, the slits he had for a nose wrinkling with disdain.

Harry frowned. “That’s how you fix everything isn’t it?” Harry growled, “Kill anything that moves.”

The Dark Lord did not deem the comment worthy of a response. Instead, he began to walk around the graveyard, his strut reminiscent of the night three years ago. Harry watched him cautiously, drawing his wand and preparing for whatever the man was about to do. Why had he brought no Death Eaters this time? Harry did not need to look around the brightly lit graveyard to know that they were alone. Was this some sort of trick?

“I decided it was unnecessary to bring my followers today,” Riddle said to no one in particular, as if he’d read Harry’s very thoughts. Perhaps he had. “They just get in the way, and this is between you and me alone.” He ended the sentence darkly, turning to glare into Harry’s emerald eyes.

Harry’s thoughts wandered back to the day in the courtyard before he could help himself, forgetting that Voldemort was still staring into his eyes. The deepening of the dark wizard’s scowl was all the confirmation Harry needed. Voldemort wanted to know what had happened at Hogwarts. That made two of them.

“So, Harry,” Tom purred, beginning to slowly circle the teen. “Care to tell me what it was that happened that day? I’m _dying_ to know.”

Harry swallowed and raised his wand. Voldemort sliced his hand through the air and shook his head. “That will not be necessary. I just want to talk to you.”

“You never just want to talk,” Harry retorted spitefully, glaring bitterly at the circling snake.

Riddle seemed to consider this for a moment. “True, my tendency is for more physical means, most often,” he answered, trying to speak in an air of indifference, “But I too have to ability to speak my thoughts instead of acting them out, Harry. I trust you can remain civilized in a conversation?”

Harry snorted. “Civilized? There’s no civilized when it comes to you. You’re a monster.” He tensed when the Dark Lord stopped pacing.

“I do not appreciate that comment,” Tom hissed. “As I’ve said before, you are quite rude. You’ve no way with manner at all.”

“I save my manners for people who actually deserve them.”

Voldemort shot an icy glance at Harry before walked slowly towards the young man. Harry, in turn, began to retreat, walking backwards as if being cornered by some sort of prowling beast. “I don’t know what happened that day,” Harry said, hoping to Merlin that Voldemort would believe him and just let him be. “I already said that. I’ve got no idea what that was.”

“You are a liar, Harry Potter,” the serpentine man snapped, still advancing upon the shuddering boy. “You cast some sort of magic.”

“I did not!” Harry shouted, aggravated by the man’s belligerence. “I know as much as you do, okay? I didn’t cast a spell or take a potion or anything like that! I’d say the same thing under bloody veritaserum!”

“I’d be willing to test that theory.”

Harry paled. He shouldn’t have said that. Being under the influence of veritaserum in the company of Lord Voldemort was not the most welcoming of ideas.

Voldemort let out a dry chuckle and flick his wand slightly, sending Harry careening back into a familiar statue. He closed his eyes as he waited for the arms of the object to trap him once more, but Riddle seemed to find repetition unnecessary. Harry couldn’t move anyway. He must have been in a body bind of some sort.

Tom looked at Harry for a moment, apparently considering something. Harry could have sworn he saw the same flicker of indecision he’d seen before pass over the garnet eyes again. Voldemort was deciding on whether or not to touch him again.

Harry was torn. His green eyes darted around the graveyard. He wanted to know what happened as well, but was it worth the pain or close proximity to the Dark Lord? His scar was already burning, but he’d come accustomed to it, so he ignored it as much as he could.

Maybe it wouldn’t even happen again. Maybe before it had just been some sort of fluke. Maybe their eyes had momentarily deceived them.

Harry knew his self-convincing was futile, but he could see Tom going through the same struggle. They stared each other down, daring a decision to be made. Voldemort’s eyes hardened and his wand arm rose infinitesimally. Harry felt his throat clench as he wondered childishly if Voldemort would grab him there again.

Instead, the man slowly raised his wandless hand. It practically creaked upwards, moving at such a leisurely and hesitant pace that Harry found himself wishing that the man would just get it over with. Finally, the pale, spidery hand floated next to his cheek., hovering on the precipice of contact.

Harry was shocked to feel warmth emanating from the fingers. He’d thought for a while that Voldemort must have been cold blooded. Warmth seemed all to human. It was discomfiting.

Voldemort overcame his apparent indecision and rested his fingertips lightly on Harry’s flushed cheek. Within the breath of a second, he felt his body shiver and his eyes snapped open. Had he closed them? He surveyed the expression of the boy in front of him, painfully aware of where his own fingertips met the flesh of Harry’s cheek.

Harry’s eyes were wide and staring, shocked and disappointed. Tom’s eyes moved to his hand, which was tan and flushed once more. He couldn’t believe it. This time he couldn’t resist the temptation to run his hand through his hair. It was soft and short, just thick enough to entangle his fingers. He marveled at what he was experiencing. Harry almost seemed to be sharing his astonishment, watching silently as Tom touched his face, feeling his long nose and eyebrows.

Tom shivered, unsure of the emotions now running through him. Shock, anxiety, curiosity, and longing. Feeling this side of himself, he felt utterly lamentable about his true form. Was the snake-like visage who he really was? Or was this his real face? He was uncertain of himself now, and that infuriated him.

Harry was just as dazed. The man who touched his face was not the Voldemort he knew. This was someone else; and they looked frightened and unsure. The dark eyes refused to meet his own as they stared at the man’s free hand. His palm was stretched up at his face and he was expecting his flesh, flexing his fingers experimentally as if doing so would turn them back to normal.

This was completely surreal.

Harry hadn’t even realized that the body bind was off of him. Voldemort had been so distracted by his newfound appearance that he’d dropped it unknowingly. For some reason, Harry didn’t fear him anymore. The fear had left with the read eyes and domineering sneer. No all he saw was a man. He knew, of course, that Lord Voldemort was behind that façade, and he still felt the venom that accompanied that, but somehow his curiosity overrode that emotion.

Tom wasn’t paying attention, so it was easy for Harry to reach up and touch the wizard’s face. Voldemort started and his eyes darted up and locked with Harry’s. Harry didn’t know why he’d done it. Perhaps he’d just wanted to ascertain if the man before him was actually real. As soon as he done it, though, he regretted it. Appalled by his act, Harry turned away. He and Tom recoiled at the same time, both drawing back with looks of mingled horror and disgust.

Harry saw himself staring once more at Voldemort as he always had been in his life—inhuman and cold. The confusion was hidden behind ruby eyes and contempt had replaced it.

Harry’s stomach was in a tumult. He felt like he was going to throw up. He grimaced and clenched his fist. They stared at each other for another minute, warring with their eyes and thoughts.

Then, Voldemort turned on the spot and vanished with a crack.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
 **  
Btw, ‘criterion’ means a rule or principle for evaluating or testing something. Just in case you didn’t know. ‘Acumen’ from chapter six means keen insight; shrewdness. And ‘taction’ means the act of touching or contact. Thought you all might want to know that.**

**Anyways, there you go! Poor boys. They’re so confused! Mwahaha**

**This is the longest chapter yet, I believe. And if you can’t tell by now, I’m pro Snape and pro Malfoy. Most of the time, at least. No worries though. I promise that no Ron-bashing and no Dumbledore-bashing accompanies my like of the Slytherin. I find Ron to be adorable and I greatly respect Dumbledore. Hermione and Lupin and Sirius are safe too, I swear. As for Ginny….. I promise you nothing.**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr  
**


	8. Fixation

  
Author's notes: The sensation of touch is one that is taken for granted, but for those who are trapped in a harsh war, the act of taction is can result in the revelation of one’s own true face; quite literally. HarryVoldemort. SLASH. NOT OOC. HBP compliant.  


* * *

_I can't meet_  
Losing sleep over this  
No I can't  
And now I cannot stop pacing  
Give me a few hours  
I'll have this all sorted out  
If my mind would just stop racing 

_Cause I cannot stand still_  
I can be this unsturdy  
This cannot be happening 

_This is over my head_  
But underneath my feet  
Cause by tomorrow morning I'll have this thing beat  
And everything will be back to the way that it was  
I wish that it was just that easy 

_Cause I'm waiting for tonight_  
Been waiting for tomoroow  
I'm somewhere in between  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real  
Just a dream 

_Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in_  
Dont be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again  
I don't want to run away from this  
I know that I just don't need this 

_Cause I cannot stand still_  
I can be this unsturdy  
This cannot be happening 

_Cause I'm waiting for tonight_  
Been waiting for tomorrow  
And I'm somewhere in between  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real  
Just a dream  
What is real just a dream 

_-Lifehouse – Somewhere in Between_  
  
FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
  
Featherlight Taction

Chapter 8- Fixation

Harry had apparated back to Diagon Alley to find his friends searching the streets frantically for him. Their panicked eased at sighting him, but quickly resurfaced on their red faces once more as they saw the horrified countenance he bore.

“Harry, what happened?!” Hermione cried, her hair mussed as if she’d just battled a hurricane.

“We thought maybe the Notice Me Not charm had gone wrong and you were completely invisible or something,” Ron said, making a face as he remembered Hermione’s panic when she thought she had performed a spell incorrectly.

Harry shook his head. “Charm was fine,” he rasped, finding his throat to be uncomfortably dry.

Hermione rest her hands tentatively on Harry’s shoulders in an act of comfort and worry. “What happened?” she asked again, softer this time.

Harry swallowed roughly and looked around the deserted alleyway they’d come to. He wasn’t sure if the charm was even on place anymore. He didn’t care. Let people see him.

“Mate…” Ron floated before Harry’s view, his freckled face nervous and sympathetic.

Seeing the redhead somehow snapped Harry out of his daze and his voice deepened, strengthening a bit. “I can’t tell you here. Let’s go back to the house. I’ll tell you there.”

His friends nodded, exchanging hesitant glances with each other as they took Harry’s arms and disapparated to Grimmauld Place.

Kreacher let out a displeased snort when the trio came through the front door of the house of Black. He was currently having a staring contest with the gnarled coat rack by the stairs. The elf was staring so vigorously at the object that Ron actually stopped and looked at the coat rack for a moment as if expecting it to do something exciting. It remained immobile, ugly, and lifeless. Shaking his head, he followed Harry and Hermione into the kitchen.

Ron and Hermione sat down next to each other, leaning forward on the elbows and waiting for Harry to join them. Harry, however, opted to stand, feeling too fidgety at the moment to stop moving. Instead, he crossed his arms and shifted back and forth on the heels of his feet as if doing a little jig. His companions gave him mirrored looks of concern.

“Voldemort kidnapped me,” Harry stated bluntly, pursing his lips and speeding up his dance, his hips swaying ridiculously. He didn’t seem to notice what a spectacle he was making of himself. Nor did he notice Ron and Hermione staring at him as if he’d sprouted another head.

“What?!” Ron spluttered indignantly, certain that Harry was just pulling his leg. Hermione looked just as affronted.

Harry stopped moving for a moment, but he refused to look his friends in the face, the image of the man-- Voldemort still burning on his retinas. “He was an old lady,” Harry said, “And she took me to the graveyard from fourth year and then she was him and he touched me and then he was different and then he left and I came back.” He looked at his friends, eyebrows raised and waiting for a response.

The two at the table looked as if they had just been slapped in the face with a fish. Their jaws hung open and their expressions were disbelieving and confused.

“Wait… and old lady took you to a graveyard?” Ron asked, severely perplexed.

“No, Voldemort did!” Harry corrected. He’d already explained it. Why were they so confused?

“But you said an old lady took you there,” Hermione said slowly, her walnut eyes regarding him with disturbed caution.

“Voldemort _was_ the old lady,” Harry replied, throwing his hands up into the air as if the statement was obvious.

Ron quirked his head to the side. “You-Know-Who’s an old lady?”

Harry tugged at his hair in frustration. “No, he used polyjuice potion or something.”

“Well why didn’t you just say that?” Hermione asked, crossing her arms in a huff.

Harry glared at her, looking as offended as he would if she would have slapped him.

“Okay…” Hermione said, composing her thoughts. “So Voldemort took you to a graveyard. What graveyard?”

“The one... the one where Cedric was killed,” Harry responded, his voice heavy with the memory.

The other two frowned. “Were there Death Eaters there? Did they torture you?” Ron asked, looking sickened.

Harry shook his head and pulled out a chair, finally giving in to the temptation of sitting down. His legs suddenly felt very sore and tired. “No. No Death Eaters. It was just me and him.” He rubbed the back of his neck as goose-bumps popped up on his skin. The very thought of the graveyard made him uncomfortable. “And he didn’t hurt me.”

“He didn’t hurt you?” Hermione looked shocked, as did Ron. “But, that’s all he’s tried to do. What did he want if it wasn’t to hurt you?”

Harry frowned and ran a slim hand through his thick hair, grazing the scar on his forehead as he did so. “He…” his voice caught in his throat.

“Harry,” Hermione reached across the table and laid a small hand on the teen’s arm. “What did he want?”

“He wanted to know what had happened back that day at Hogwarts,” Harry said, his eyes distant and thoughtful.

Hermione’s face was grim and pensive. “He didn’t know what it was? I mean, of all people, you think he would be the one to…” She trailed off. Her brain had clicked into action. The boys could practically hear the gears whirring. Her eyes lit up and she stood. “Voldemort doesn’t know that we’re destroying the horcruxes!” she exclaimed excitedly.

The boys stared at her, bemused.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head with a chuckle, her bushy hair bouncing on her shoulders. “Isn’t it obvious? Voldemort, a wizard with so many resources and minds at his disposal—there’s no way he couldn’t have figured out what happened in the courtyard.”

Harry and Ron looked at her inquisitively. “But… he really didn’t know,” Harry said, “He was furious. He knows as much as we do.”

Hermione shook her head, a triumphant smile on her face. “Not exactly,” she chirped. “He probably looked through every possibility when trying to find out what happened. But there was one he didn’t even consider checking; one that he has no idea we know about.”

Ron’s eyes widened and Harry whispered: “The horcruxes… you don’t think?”

“I _do_ think!” Hermione clapped her hands together, causing Ron to jump. “Harry, what happened when you were in that fog when we destroyed the diadem?”

Harry drug his mind back to that day, recalling how the diadem had exploded into a burning mist; a mist that had burned his skin… “The smoke went into my skin,” he said breathlessly, both astounded and horrified as he realized what had happened.

Ron looked sick, but Hermione was thrilled. “This is unbelievable, Harry! This means that the soul fragment from the horcrux latched to you in its last moments. That must be what caused Voldemort to change when he touched you!”

“Hermione, how is that a good thing?” Ron asked, mortified. “Your smiling about the fact that part of V-voldemort’s soul stuck to Harry! That’s not something to smile about!”

“Wait… does that make me a horcrux?” Harry cried, reeling. No! That would be catastrophic!

Hermione shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. We’d already destroyed the horcrux. The soul fragment was probably so weak that even if it’s still alive, it’s just barely. It’s not strong enough to be used as a horcrux anymore.”  
”It’s strong enough to do some things,” Harry countered. “He touched me again in the graveyard. He changed again. It happened again. It happened again!” Harry felt that repeating himself would make the situation more real and stable; that it would make his point clear. “If it’s powerful enough to transform Voldemort himself, who’s to say if it’s not strong enough to resurrect him?!”

Hermione wasn’t swayed. She had a Luna-like expression on her face; dazed and thoughtful, without a care in the world. “I don’t know. I’d have to do some research on horcrux transfers,” she said, starting to pace, “But… we also need to figure out why the soul has the effect that it does. It doesn’t do anything else, does it?”

“No, just this,” Harry sighed, slouching. “As far as I know, at least.”  
”Didn’t he make the horcruxes when he was normal looking?” Ron asked, leaning back in his chair and glancing at Hermione for confirmation. It was Harry who confirmed it.

“Yeah, he made them before he tried to kill me; back when he still looked like a person. What about it?”

“Well wouldn’t that mean that the soul fragment has the features of who he used to be and not who he is now?” Ron prompted, pulling at the zipper of his jacket.

“Ronald, that’s brilliant!” Hermione cried, clasping her hands together, her excitement renewed. Ron blushed. “Harry, the soul is like a memory. When the soul comes into contact with Voldemort, it reverts him to what the soul believe he should be. The soul grew old as well, but it didn’t undergo the resurrection three years ago. That means-“

“That the man he turns into when he touches me is who he would have been if he hadn’t found out about the prophecy,” Harry finished darkly, a scowl on his face.

Hermione’s face fell. “Yes, that must be it,” she agreed. “Harry-“

“I’m going to bed,” Harry said suddenly, standing and shoving clenched fists into his pockets.

“But it’s only evening,” Ron answered, his eyebrows knit together.

“I’m tired. I did kind of have a long day.” Harry looked at his friends, waiting for them to contest that statement. They didn’t, so he left the kitchen with a wave and a muttered “Good night”.

When he reached his room, he flicked off the lights and tossed his glasses aside, not even bothering to change, leaving on his trainers and jacket and falling face-first into the bed.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

He was in that room again; dark one with the flickering fireplace. Emerald eyes glanced around, swinging back undefined shapes and shadows and coming to rest on the figure in the doorway. They narrowed, the orange flicker of the firelight catching in the irises.

Harry didn’t say anything. He just walked forward slowly, stopping next to the tall man who leaned in the door frame, staring longingly into the fire; dark eyes unnoticing of Harry’s existence.

Harry followed the man’s gaze and they both gazed at the twisting flames in silence, not content, but satisfied with the silence. Harry felt his chest ache with the desire to say something, but he was afraid if he spoke that the man would disappear.

He turned towards him again, startled to find dark eyes staring into his own. His heart thudded against his chest and he felt tempted to run away. Why was he afraid? He knew the man would not hurt him. So what did he fear?

The man’s face was soft and unexpressive. He looked at Harry silently, unmoving and observant.

Harry licked his lips, unable to tear his eyes away from the ones that bore into his very soul. He tried to swallow, but he couldn’t, so he tried to speak instead. His voice came out in a throaty whisper. He hardly recognized it. The sound of it made him shiver as he croaked out the name he was dying to speak.

“Tom?”

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Harry shot up in bed, covered in a cold sweat. He wiped off his forehead and rubbed his eyes, groping around for his glasses. He found them and slid the cold metal onto his face, cupping his mouth with his hands and groaning. His eyes fluttered closed and the image of Tom Riddle staring into his face flickered before them. He felt his stomach clench and he punched his pillow viciously, an unknown anger skewering him like a hot iron.

“What the FUCK?!” he screamed into the softness of his pillow, latching onto his covers with a death-grip. He let out a deep growl of exasperation and relaxed, lost of his previous energy.

He leaned back into his headboard and massaged his temples, staring through the darkness at the opposite wall. Maybe if he stared at it long enough it would explode. With this thought in mind, he continued to stare at the solid wood for the next three hours, questions racing through his mind as he tried to push them away with the focus of detonating Grimmauld Place’s foundation.

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Severus Snape, cloaked and heavily hooded, stood lingering in the shadows of the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade. The November snow floated down from the white sky and landed softly on his cloak, melting as soon and they touched the black fabric.

It was mid afternoon and the Hogwart’s students were filling the small town like locusts. As such, he had cast a strong disillusionment charm on himself, keen not to be noticed, especially with the mind of his task at hand. His ebony eyes scanned the street from his inconspicuous spot, mouth set into a firm, determined line.

His eyes widened imperceptibly as he spotted his quarry, and he wrapped his fingers around the handle of his wand. They were heading towards the Shrieking Shack, a place easily hidden from the view of Hogsmeade. They were making this easy.

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Ginny wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and clung to Neville’s arm with the intention of stealing the other Gryffindor’s body heat. The elder student blushed modestly, but said nothing. Ever since they’d gone to the Yule Ball together, Ginny had no problem with clinging to him whenever she felt like it. Most people interpreted wrongly, of course, assuming that the two were dating. Though Neville had possibly considered the idea, Ginny thought of him as nothing more than a brother, since none of her real siblings were at Hogwarts any longer.

Neville knew it was only a matter of time before he became the Ron replacement, but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed the young Weasley’s company, and she was a great help in keeping Dumbledore’s army going since Harry was gone.

Speaking of Dumbledore’s army, where were the others? Ever since Dumbledore’s death, the underground group had resurfaced. The Headmistress herself knew of their meetings, but she keenly kept her mouth shut, sometimes even distracting Filch when the meetings were held. Needless to say, it was loads of help when the person who ran the school didn’t mind you were keeping a secret organization within it.

Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas were supposed to have met them in the courtyard so they could go to Hogsmeade. However, as the Gryffindor duo walked out into the snow, no one was there to greet them.

“Where d’you reckon they are?” Neville inquired, scratching his mousy brown hair curiously.

Ginny shrugged against his arm. “Maybe they already started towards the Shrieking Shack. That’s where we’re holding the meeting, after all,” she said, her soft voice, echoing into the pale sky.

“Do you want to head there, then?” Neville asked. Ginny nodded and they began walking down to Hogsmeade, admiring the blanket of snow that covered the small buildings.

It had taken a lot of debating and reassurance to get the members of Dumbledore’s Army to agree to use the Shrieking Shack as their meeting place when they couldn’t use the Room of Requirement. Finally, Ginny had forcefully drug them all their and made the petrified students sit inside the house until they finally gave up the belief that the shack was haunted.

The two walked through the streets of Hogsmeade heading towards the trees and waving at passing students that they knew. They probably though they were going somewhere into the forest to snog. Neville grinned and chuckled at the thought as they passed the Hog’s Head. He felt Ginny tense and he looked down at her, thinking his chuckling had startled her.

“I was just-“ he started.

“Oh no it wasn’t your laughing,” she corrected his thoughts quickly, tugging at his arm and speeding up.

“Ginny?” What’re you doing?” Neville was practically being drug across the snow covered grass now. “Ginny?”

“Hush!” the witch whispered harshly. Then, leaning up, she said quietly, “I think someone’s following us.”

Neville, shocked but excited at the same time, nodded and hurried along with her. As soon as they were in the depths of the trees, they drew their wands and whirled around, side by side.

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Severus had seen the teens whispering closely to one another as they began to quicken their pace. Surely they couldn’t have seen him? No, the disillusionment charm was far too powerful.

Tightening his grip around his wand, his quickened his pace as well, following the teens into the trees. He stopped short when he saw that they had turned, wielding their wands and scouring the woods frantically to spot their follower.

Snape was impressed, he had to admit, but he was only allowed this revelation for a short moment before Ginny saw his footprints in the snow and sent a stunning spell straight for him. He dove adeptly out of the way and shot off a silent stunning spell towards her. She dodged the first one, but hadn’t noticed his second cast and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Neville let out an angry roar and began casting off body binds left and right. Jets of white light shot around the forest and Severus cursed under his breath, jumping behind a tree. Bloody hell, that Longbottom boy had definitely gotten better. He chuckled inwardly. The Death Eaters were in for a nasty shock when the time came to face these kids. He wondered idly how much Potter and his companions had progressed.

Waiting until Neville had tired himself, Severus spun from behind the tree, disillusionment charm still strong. Neville turned at the sound, but he wasn’t fast enough to block the jet of red light as it soared towards him, and he too fell to the ground.

The ex-professor walked over the brittle leaves towards the fallen students, wincing when he saw that Ginny’s head had landed on a rock in her fall. He quickly knelt down beside the unconscious redhead and lifted her head softly, inspecting it for wounds. A small bump protruded from the back of her skull. Sighing, he waved his wand over the spot, muttering a short incantation, and the bump shrunk away.

Likewise, he inspected Neville for injury, but, miraculously, the infamous klutz sported no bruise or bump.

Satisfied in his inspections, Severus withdrew two flasks from the pocket of his robes and uncorked them. Yanking out a few hairs from each teen’s head, he dropped them into their respective flasks. Ginny’s turned a vibrant orange. The wizard chuckled. How fitting. Neville’s became a vivid pink. At this, Severus frowned. ...What? Shaking his head, he corked the vials and tossed them back into his robe pocket.

He then bound their arms and legs and tied them to the tree with silvery, shimmering rope. They wouldn’t be able to get out of that without some help. He stood and looked at them for a minute, an unexpected wave of nostalgia swept over him and he swayed on his feet. The last moment before he left, he cast warming spells over the two teens. They’d freeze otherwise.

He shoved his wand into his robes and started heading out of the forest, his walk crisp and quick. They only had a limited amount of time now.

He swept behind the Hog’s Head and another hooded figure looked up at his entrance. “Ah, Severus,” he said smoothly, “Are we ready to go, then?”

Severus let the disillusionment drop and reached into his robe pockets, withdrawing the colorful flasks. “Lucius, they’re unconscious and tied up, but I’m sure that they will not stay that way for long. We have a few hours at the most.”

Lucius Malfoy pushed away from the stone wall and removed the hood of his cloak, letting his silver-blonde hair cascade down his back. “And who are these?” he asked, gesturing towards the vials.

“Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley,” Severus answered, raising his palm up for Lucius to inspect the potions. “I say you should be the girl. After all, your hair is longer.”

Lucius frowned. “That’s absolutely no valid reason for me to be the female!” he stated, indignant. “Your hair is not far behind my length, if you wish to debate that point.”  
Severus chuckled dryly. “You, my friend, possess much more grace than I. You, surely, would play the part much more efficiently,” he finished smartly.

Lucius flushed and straightened. “Fine,” he replied stiffly, reaching for the pink vial.

Snape retracted his hand. “No, I’m afraid _that’s_ Longbottom’s.”

Lucius stared down at the hot pink liquid disbelievingly. “You lie.”

“Sadly, no,” Severus said with a smirk. “I always knew him to be a bit light on his feet.”

The two men snickered and Lucius grabbed the orange glass and uncorked it as Severus did the same with the other. They were about to swallow the contents when the potions master raised his hand and muttered: “Wait.” He reached into his pockets an drew out his wand. “Clothing,” he explained at Lucius’ impatient look.

He flicked his thin wrist and their heavy cloaks changed to school robes and Gryffindor scarves.

Lucius grimaced. “Oh, this is downright cruel,” he hissed.

Severus looked at his own clothes and nodded in silent agreement. Then, without another word, they down the contents of the polyjuice potions.

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 **  
Ohmygoodness where’s Voldie-poo? Don’t worry, I promise he’ll be in the next chappie. In fact, he’s most of the next chappie, along with the rest of Severus and Lucius’ escapade in Hogwarts. I’m going to have loads of fun with that.**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr  
**


	9. Pretension

  
Author's notes: The sensation of touch is one that is taken for granted, but for those who are trapped in a harsh war, the act of taction is can result in the revelation of one’s own true face; quite literally. Voldemort/Harry. SLASH. NOT OOC. HBP compliant  


* * *

**A/N: Sorry if there are some typos in the chapters, guys. I tend to not read through the chapters to actually correct them until later. Sometimes I miss a few things in my initial edit. I tend to be brain dead once I finish a chapter because I’ve most likely been writing for a few hours straight at the time. I’ll try and go back through the other chapters when I get a chance and fix the errors.**

**A/N 2: Once again, any suggestions for plot twists or something you want to see are welcome. Main plot is already developed, but little side things are always fun to add.**

**Enjoy!  
**  
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 __  
Is this the start of it?  
Has this become a part of it?  
Maybe we should've slowed down  
it was the taste of it,  
and this is how we wasted it.  
Maybe we'll get it back somehow

_It made me furious,_  
You said that if we bury this.  
Never could dig up the past,  
I couldn't handle it  
I thought I could dismantle it.  
Maybe some things weren't meant to last. 

_Kids of the frozen front range,_  
Carry the message if I fall.  
Tell them we're moving on  
sorting out who our enemies are. 

_I've seen it, you say I don't believe it  
it's either or..._

_Tell me it's over or everything you hoped for_  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this go 

_You've got the upper hand_  
wrapped tight around my neck again.  
And I can't get the words out.  
If you were listening  
you'd hear the voice or reasoning  
telling you to walk away from this somehow. 

_Kids of the frozen front range_  
Carry the message if I fall  
Tell them we're moving on  
Sorting out who our enemies are 

_I need this, you can't deny you feel it  
it's either or..._

_Tell me its over or everything you hoped for_  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this...  
Tell me its over or everything you hoped for  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this go 

_Okay in the first degree,  
there's nothing wrong with me._

_o.k. in the first degree  
there's nothing wrong_

_Tell me its over or everything you hoped for_  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this...  
Tell me its over or everything you hoped for  
Tell me either way,  
I know you know I never let this go 

_Okay in the first degree,  
there's nothing wrong with me._

_o.k. in the first degree  
there's nothing wrong_

_-Meese – The Start of It_  
  
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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 9- Pretension

Tom Marvolo Riddle was currently sitting in his armchair in his quarters, head resting on his fist and blood-red eyes staring unblinkingly at the dark walls. Every now and then, his left eye would twitch, but that was all the movement he allowed himself.

Severus had left the manor to try and find books in the darkest of magical corners of London, hoping to find some answer to the question looming over Voldemort’s “predicament”, as it were. As such, Tom would have gladly berated Lucius for his incompetence, but alas, the elder Malfoy had stated that he had business at the Ministry that day, and Ministry ties were those which the Dark Lord was not yet willing to sever.

He sighed, a sound more like a hiss, and allowed himself to blink once; slowly. The blink refreshed his vision and he was unwillingly knocked out of his impatient stupor. Frowning, he lowered a pale, spidery hand to the arm of his chair, stretching his neck and taking in a deep breath.

He’d had a dream last night. It was a strange one. He was in the form of his agreeably more handsome self, and he stood in a dark room lit only by a solitary fireplace. He leaned in the doorway of the room, unable to move his gaze even as he became aware that he was not alone. When he had finally been able to move, he turned his head to find none other than Harry Potter staring at him. After what seemed to be a strained moment, the boy had spoken a word that had sent an unwelcome chill down Voldemort’s spine.

He had said “Tom”.

It wasn’t as if the brat hadn’t called him that before, but it was different that time. That time, there had been something else in the boy’s voice. It wasn’t laced with the normal hate or passionate anger, but etched with a frightened curiosity and intrigued confusion.

He’d woken up after that. That’s what he got for succumbing to the demon of sleep.

Riddle shook his head and tried to clear it, wondering if the simple physical movement would shatter all his contemplations. Sadly, it wasn’t that simple.

He had the gnawing feeling that his dream from the previous night was not his alone. It was not only shared in the realm of the dream, but in reality. The indescribable tug of his connection to Potter was definite when he had awoken.

This, as many things did these days, perplexed him. Never before had they met in the mental realm. They’d only ever been able to see through each others eyes and emotions. What was this strange new liaison they had formed?

The Dark Lord lifted his thin hand and inspected it lazily. He let it drift slowly towards the oak table to his right and slid his fingertips over the smooth wood.

What would it feel like to do this with my other hand? He wondered curiously. What would if feel like to touch this wood with the flesh that Potter gave me?

Had Harry really given him that other skin? The teen hadn’t done it on purpose, but he had, in a way, been the means of the transformation. So, once again, it had been Harry Potter who had left Lord Voldemort dazed and confused, unsure of his power and his humanity. Twice now, Harry had shattered the foundation of his being; and here he sat, in the room of his underground manor, thoughts driven by the memories of those moments when he had touched Harry—confused, angry, and desolate.

That afternoon in the graveyard had been a rude awakening to the Dark Lord.

He’d felt his own face with a morbid fascination and realization of what he had now become. Voldemort had always been willing to sacrifice a certain amount of his humanity to gain power. He did what was needed to be done in order to ascend. He had understood the sacrifice from the beginning, deeming it necessary to achieve his goals.

Never had he regretted his decision to throw aside what bonded him to everyone else.

Never had he doubted his choice to shred apart his soul and his body.

Never, not once, had he realized how much he missed what he’d so foolishly relinquished.

Never… until now.

For those split seconds of touch; those ethereal, insubstantial bits of time; Voldemort had felt human. He had missed what he lost. He had regretted…

And now he found himself longing, most aggravatingly so, to feel the wind against the skin of his face as it should be; to feel the touch of another’s flesh against his own. Not this cold, lifeless, brittle flesh that he had been cursed with, but the flesh of the courtyard and of the graveyard. He wanted to feel with that body. He wanted to breathe with it and see with it, but it had been taken away so quickly he hadn’t more than a moment of a thought to feel that torturous memory of himself.

Harry Potter had always been the vessel of Tom’s weakness. The young wizard had represented all that the Dark Lord had failed and everything that he could not do. Now the boy had taken one more blow to his pride. Now he was what Tom could not be. Now he was what Tom could have been. Now he was the embodiment of everything that Tom Riddle lacked; and everything that he wanted and desired.

It was so pathetically cruel that Potter could so easily and so inadvertently destroy him as he did.

Voldemort chuckled; a dark, mirthless rasp. He closed his eyes and the memory of Harry’s shocked face blew into his vision. What had that look been? Fear? Disgust? Mystification? Perhaps a bit of all of those things… and more. The emotional orbs that were Harry’s eyes was something that had always baffled the Dark Lord since the first time he’d laid eyes on the boy. They were passionate and arrogant, but that was only the surface. If you looked deeper you saw pain and resentment; most of which was most likely caused by Voldemort himself.

He really had destroyed Harry’s life, hadn’t he?

Funny how he had meant only to end it, and instead set in motion a race of despair and anger. He had deprived the teen of his parents, his loved ones, his life, and his future—all in one fail swoop.

Something akin to a flutter of guilt brushed at the lining of his mind. If there was one thing he regretted, it was that night sixteen years ago; the night when he had lost everything. He didn’t regret it because of Harry’s pain. He could care less about the boy’s pain. No, he regretted the wizard he had created; one whose destiny was only for him and his death. And, likewise, Voldemort had drawn out his own fate to be Harry.

Their destinies were focused entirely around one another. Sworn enemies linked by a jagged scar and a broken prophecy.

How ironic that they were to be each other’s obsession and motivation. Ultimately, they would bring upon the downfall of each other, but for now, they were the reason they both survived. They lived for death; a disgusting, pointless vendetta.

He ran his fingers along the tabletop once more, falling again into a catatonic contemplation.

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Severus pushed open the doors of the Hogwart’s entrance hall, feeling a rush of unwarranted fear for a moment, as if the polyjuice potion was ineffective and he would be spotted. The night of Dumbledore’s death rushed back to him and through all sense of logic, he feared being discovered in the one place where he was most unwelcome—the place that had once been his home and was now his exile.

However, a young Hufflepuff boy walked by and spotted him, smiling and waving. “His Neville!” he said gaily.

Forcing himself to speak, Severus responded with a throaty “hello” and a small wave. The boy didn’t seem to notice his hesitance, thankfully, and he walked on. The fear had left with that Hufflepuff, and for a split second, Severus was furious with himself for feeling the paranoia at all.

Lucius, or Ginny, rather, elbowed him pointedly and he grunted, turning to his companion.

“Where do we start?” Lucius inquired quietly, glancing around the hall to make sure they hadn’t been overheard. He flung a lock of red hair over his shoulder with a look of disdain.

“Walk around with that look on your face and we’ll not be able to go anywhere,” Severus hissed.

“What do you expect? These robes are such low quality, and I do not fancy having breasts,” Lucius spat, grimacing and looking down at his chest.

“What you prefer is irrelevant, _Ginny_ ,” Snape said the last word loudly as a couple Ravenclaws walked by and surveyed them curiously. Leaning in to speak more lowly, he continued. “Play the part or this will be a useless trip. Do you want to find out why Potter was here or not?”

Lucius rolled his borrowed eyes and sighed. He plastered a terribly fake looking smile onto Ginny’s freckled face and growled under his breath. “Is that better?”

Severus ignored him, pulling off Neville’s red and gold scarf in the heat of the castle. “I suggest we start at their common room.”

Lucius nodded and they began to head up the endless tower of moving staircases.

Severus mind was whirring. How would they get into the common room? They didn’t know the password. When they finally reached the seventh floor, they stared at the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was currently practicing opera, quite badly, and she paid them no heed. Lucius eyed Severus with a questioning look, and, in turn, Severus glanced around the corridor for a Gryffindor. Surely they would believe that Longbottom, of all people, would forget the password.

However, in his search he found not Gryffindors, but Slytherins. Two boys, third year by the looks of them, were chattering quietly to one another as they exited a corridor to the left of the Fat Lady’s portrait.

“I tell you, that’s where I saw him,” the shorted one muttered, pointing back to the corridor they had come from. His short, black hair almost covered his puffy eyes as he insisted his statement.

The other boy was chubby and squat. He reminded Severus of a young Vincent Crabbe. “Why would Potter have been there?” he said, unbelieving. “He doesn’t come here anymore. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not being stupid!” his housemate growled indignantly, “Potter was running through this hall just a few days ago, I swear it!”

At this point, both Severus and Lucius were watching the boys severely, drinking in every word in hopes of a clue.

“I was up here for Defense Against the Dark Arts and I saw him and that Granger girl and the Weasley walking through the corridor. Later they showed up again and they ran out when You-Know-Who was spotted!” the student was waving his arms dramatically, trying to emphasize his story as if that would make it believable. His companion merely shook his head and starting walking down the stairs.

The two elder Slytherins tuned out the rest boy’s spluttering and defiance of the honesty of his story and they slipped slowly into the hall the child had indicated. It was empty. Glancing quickly at one another, they prowled through the corridor, searching quietly through doors and in the shadows. Footsteps sounded behind them and they whirled to come face to face with a very startled looking Minerva McGonagall.

“Miss Weasley, Mister Longbottom,” she said curiously, “What in heavens name are you doing sneaking about? Have you lost your toad again?”

Severus nodded Neville’s head and pulled out a bashful grin. “I can’t seem to find him anywhere, Professor,” he said softly, trying to sound as Neville-like as possible. “Have you seen him?”

McGonagall shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.” She paused and gave them a strange look. “Shouldn’t you two be in _Hogsmeade_ right now?” she asked suddenly.

Severus got the feeling she was hinting at something and a bit of nervousness dropped into his gut. Had they chosen the wrong pair to impersonate? Perhaps Weasley and Longbottom had actually had a purpose of some importance. He had to think fast.

Lucius beat him to the punch.

“Neville was so worried about his toad that we had to find him first,” he said lightly, his voice far too feminine. He must have used a charm to do that. “We were heading out to Hogsmeade once we found him.”

Minerva nodded. This seemed to sate her. “Very well, but you might want to hurry it up. You haven’t much time.” She nodded to them emphatically and swept out of the corridor briskly.

Severus sighed and rubbed his temples.  
”Nosey, isn’t she?” Lucius inquired vaguely, looking around the hall.

Severus nodded. “Imagine being her colleague,” he replied tiredly, glancing at the wall beside them. Frustrated with their lack of progress, he began to pace. Where would Potter and his friends have gone? Why were they here? Why this corridor? Back and forth he walked, his eyes shut tight in thought. He turned to pace back again, but a small hand on his chest stopped him.

He opened his eyes to see Ginny staring up at him. For a moment, he thought it was really her, then he remembered the potions and straightened. “What?”

Lucius nodded towards the wall beside them. What had once been plain stone was now an elaborate door. What in the world?

The potions master turned Gryffindor looked at Lucius for an explanation, but the other merely shrugged.

Severus frowning, placed a plump hand on the door and pushed, marveling at the sight that appeared before him. It was a room, full of books and toys and endless items. The ceiling was high and the width long. “What in the name of Merlin is this?” he whispered.

“You’re telling me you’ve never seen this room before?” Lucius asked skeptically, following Snape into the chapel-like room.

“Not once,” the other wizard replied, “I’d no clue this even existed.”

“Well it looks like everyone else knew of it. Look at all these things!” Lucius gaped rather unceremoniously at the mountains of items. “Is this some sort of junk room?”

Severus shrugged as something caught his eye. He stepped cautiously forward, peering down at the darkened spot in the floor. It was a burn.

“Looks like something was unhappy to be here,” Lucius commented as Severus knelt down to inspect the blemish. “An explosive of some sort?”

Severus’ eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “No, this is magical residue.” He pulled out his wand and whispered, “Scorgio.” Nothing changed. “See? It will not clean by spell. This was caused by something of a great magical propensity.”

“Potter?”

Snape chuckled. “Potter.”

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Severus and Lucius hurried down the twisting stairways towards the entrance of Hogwarts. It was time to go. They had gotten what they had come for.

They skid to a stop when they heard excited voices echoing from the entrance hall; familiar voices.

“Professor McGonagall!! Professor!!”

“What is it, Mister Finnigan?”

“Ginny and Neville, they’ve been tied up!”

A shuffle of feet and a gasp.

“What? Where?”  
”In the forest by Hogsmeade! We can’t get he rope to untie or cut. It’s strange-“

“That’s impossible! I just saw the two of them minutes ago upstairs!”

A confused silence.

Severus swallowed audibly and he and Lucius began to back away. They had to hide.

“But I saw them!” Seamus continued, “Professor, you have to help. They’ll freeze!”

Maternal and teacherly instinct took over logic and the two men heard Minerva agree. A group of people rushed out the door and into the snow.

The sigh that followed could probably have been heard for miles merely for its sheer, honest relief. “I’d rather not be caught and questioned,” Lucius hissed, knocking Severus out of his relief.

“Yes.” Severus nodded in agreement and once more drew his wand, casting disillusionment charms as the two hurried out the doors to the end of Hogwart’s wards so that they could disapparate and inspect their findings.

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Harry twirled the heavy book around in his hands, grimacing when he dropped it and it crashed loudly to the floor.

“I do wish you’d take better care of my books, Harry,” Remus Lupin said softly, observing Harry with a worried patience.

“Sorry,” Harry grumbled, picking up the text and setting it aside, slumping lifelessly into his chair.

Hermione had asked Remus to come to Grimmauld Place so that he could provide a sort of paternal reassurance to Harry. The raven-haired wizard had locked himself up in his room for three days straight, and try as they might, Ron and Hermione could not persuade him to come out. He’d finally given in when Remus arrived, only to sit himself in a dusty armchair and not move for the next half a day.

Remus had given up trying to speak to him, knowing that Harry would talk in his own good time, but he had to admit that his patience was wearing thin as he watched his friend’s son sit and suffer as he did.

He sighed and set his own book down on the table beside him, rising and switching seats to the armchair next to Harry’s. The boy turned away from him and curled up into a sort of ball.

“Harry…” Remus began, not in the least bit surprised when the teen did not answer, but still disappointed. “Ron and Hermione have not told me what happened.”

Harry turned and looked at him over his shoulder. He seemed surprised at this. “They didn’t?” he mumbled.

Remus smiled, thrilled to hear Harry speak and determined to keep it that way. “No. I wanted to hear it from you. It is up for you to tell me what you want to.” His honest expression remained steady and Harry relaxed a bit, looking away into the fire across the room.

“Will you tell me?” the older wizard asked gently, “You only have to tell me as much as you want to.” He was well aware of the fact that Harry and his friends were searching for horcruxes; most likely those belonging to Voldemort himself. He was furious with Dumbledore for having set such a dangerous task upon mere children, but as he stared into their weathered eyes, he knew in his heart that they were children no more; aged by experience more than time.

“We were at Hogwarts a while back,” Harry said quietly. Remus nodded. Minerva had told him this. “We were searching for something… to destroy it. And… when it die it went into me.”

The werewolf paled. Surely Harry did not mean that the soul from the horcrux had transferred itself to Harry?

“Then Voldemort came,” Harry said, finally looking at Remus, “And he grabbed my throat.” He stopped, searching for the right words before he continued. “When he touched me… he changed. He looked normal.”

“Normal?” Remus asked, rubbing his chin. “What do you mean?”

Harry shrugged. “He looked like a regular man. Hermione figured out that it must be what he was meant to look like. What he would have looked like if…”

Suddenly, Remus understood why Harry was so upset. “What he would have looked like if he hadn’t tried to kill you,” he finished. Harry nodded solemnly.

Remus looked away. So that was why Harry was so frustrated and confused. The Voldemort he had seen at Hogwarts was the image of what Harry’s life could have been. He was the visage of what would have come if Voldemort had not killed Harry’s parents and destroyed Harry’s life. The man Harry had seen in the courtyard was the representation of what Harry lost, and it was the harsh realization of what had happened instead. Lupin found himself thinking of Voldemort and Harry as the same person. Their faces had both been warped by that day sixteen years ago; Voldemort’s more visible than Harry’s, but they were both changed from it, nonetheless.

Harry touched his scar. It was the mark that he bore as a reminder, just as Tom Riddle was reminded daily by his reptilian shell. What would have come to be if the Dark Lord had not attacked Harry that night? What would have happened if he had not lost his last shred of humanity in the backfire of the Avada Kedavra? Would he have become the inhuman monster that he was today?

Harry shook his head. He was still a monster back then. Just because his face was not that of a snake, that did not mean that Voldemort was not a venomous beast. He was still evil back then.

But somehow… it was different. The physical façade had changed something. It was the difference between hope and destiny. The face Harry had seen in the graveyard was confused and frightened. It was not the same face that had killed his parents and destroyed his life. Yes, it was still Tom Riddle. It was still Lord Voldemort. But something else was there. Something not quite evil

Something human.

And that gave Harry hope.

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 **  
Reviewwwwwwsssssss. I eats mah reviews for breakfast! GIVE ME MORE, I IS HUNGRYYY!!!**

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	10. Impetuosity

_Why should I welcome_  
Your domination  
Why should I listen  
To explanations 

_I'm not pretending_  
To make it simple  
Try to be something  
Experimental 

_You don't turn me off_  
I will never fail  
Things I loved before,  
are now for sale 

_Keep yourself away_  
Far away from me  
I'll Forever stay  
Your perfect enemy 

_No longer waiting_  
Remove illusions  
No more complaining  
Forget confusion 

_No more compassion_  
Not sentimental  
I am now something  
Experimental 

_You don't turn me off_  
I will never fail  
Things I loved before,  
are now for sale 

_Keep yourself away_  
Far away from me  
I'll Forever stay  
Your perfect enemy 

_-T.A.T.U. – Perfect Enemy_  
  
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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 10- Impetuosity  
  
Where the hell was it?! He left it right there! At that exact spot on the table!

Voldemort growled and tossed a few unidentifiable objects onto the floor in his frenzied search. Where in the name of Merlin?

“WORMTAIL!” He bellowed down the hall, only angering more as he heard a frightened squeak and a scrambling of fat feet.

“Y-yes master?!” the plump man cried as he sped lumpily around the corner of the hall.

“Where is it?” Tom snarled, his ire rising by the second.

“Where is what, my Lord?” Wormtail quivered pathetically.

“My sandwich, you lunkheaded buffoon!” the Dark Lord shouted, looking around the hall suddenly as if the food in question would walk around the corner any moment. “Where is it you pathetic excuse for human flesh?! You worthless waste of oxygen! You slimy invertebrate in capable of using the toilet!”

Pettigrew started at this last comment. He was perfectly able to use the-

“WHERE’S MY SANDWICH?!” Voldemort’s eyes were crazy now; wild with fury.

“Harry Potter, milord!” the blob of a man responded quickly, holding his hands up vainly to ward of any damage that the Dark Lord might inflict upon him.

Voldemort stopped cold. “Why would Harry Potter take my sandwich?” he inquired, more curious than angry now.

“That’s simple, Tom.” All the sudden it was Albus Dumbledore who stood before him, blue eyes twinkling as he twined his gray beard around his index finger. “He was hungry.”  
”I’m hungry too!” Tom cried in response. Was he… whining? “Why does Potter always get to have a sandwich?!”  
”Because he loves his sandwiches, Tom,” Dumbledore responded airily, that blasted twinkle still glowing like mad.

Voldemort was outraged. “I will not love a sandwich! That’s preposterous!”

“And that is why you will never defeat Harry,” the old man replied severely.

“…Because I won’t love sandwiches?”

“Of course not!”

A moment of silence.

“I hate you.”

“Would you love me if I was a sandwich?”

A growl.

“…Go die.”

“I am already dead, Tom.”

“You are missing my point entirely.”

“Settle down. Have a sandwich, dear boy.”

“Harry Potter took my sandwich!”

“Must you always blame your insecurities on others?”

Tom sighed. “Am I dreaming?” he asked tiredly.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “Indeed.”  
Voldemort nodded his snake-like head and turned his red eyes back to his bedroom door. “I’m going to wake up now, if you don’t mind, old man.”  
Dumbledore shook his head happily. “No, no. Not at all, my dear boy.”

“Stay out of my dreams,” the Dark Lord added suddenly; a secondary thought.

Dumbledore smiled serenely. “Of course, of course. Would you like a sandwich?”

“HARRY POTTER TOOK MY-“

\--

Scarlet eyes snapped open and a low, dark growl was heard into the depths of the night.

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It was a war hands and fists. Harry grabbed a bit of clothing and tried to push, but his opponent jerked his arm away and shoved him into the wall; hard. Green eyes widened and a gasp cut through the air.

Hands were running through his hair, an ungentle caress. He grit his teeth together when his neck was bitten. He pushed his hands outward, but the firm chest wouldn’t budge. A warm cheek brushed his own and hot breath tickled his ear.

Finally, Harry got a good grip on the neck of the man’s shirt and he yanked him backwards. He overestimated his strength, however, and the man simply moved back to look at him; dark eyes hard and unblinking.

Then, with a smirk, he leaned forward once more, whispering in a cool and sadistic hiss. “Harry.”

\--

Harry shot up in bed, rivers of cold sweat running down his face and chest. He practically yelped when he felt the tent in his pajama bottoms, ashamed and mortified that he’d actually gotten hard from a dream about Voldemort.

His hand jumped up to his face so quickly that he slapped himself, but he ignored this and wiped his blurry eyes, refusing to acknowledge his nether region problem any further. This was one hard-on that, out of a stubborn pride and a bewildered horror, he would absolutely not “take care of”.

Groaning, he grumbled to himself, “Kreacher in a bikini…Kreacher in a bikini…” over and over like a mantra. Soon, his erection was gone and it was replaced with an overwhelming urge to make sure Kreacher was in proper dress and then promptly gouge his eyes out afterwards.

Cursing colorfully, he shoved on his trainers and, without thinking to grab his glasses, began shuffling blindly around the room in search of his red jacket.

Eventually he found what he believed to be the jacket in question. He slipped it on and impatiently grabbed his spectacles, placing them violently and somewhat crookedly on his nose before tip-toeing out his bedroom door and into the hall.

He stopped dead when he saw Kreacher hobbling up the stairs towards him. The old elf stopped and regarded Harry’s odd expression with an annoyed interest.

Harry grimaced comically and they stared each other down silently. It was a furious battle of sanity, which Kreacher quickly ended with a grunt that sounded strangely like “half-blood brat tarnishing poor Mistress’ house with his strange ways and staring at Kreacher with those unworthy eyes. Blood traitors! Kreacher will do away with them all! No worries about the klumpets.”

It was an admittedly long grunt.

Harry shivered uncomfortably and tried not to picture bikinis as he wondered vaguely what a “klumpet” was. Perhaps Kreacher was like Luna, always making up the strangest things; all the while believing wholeheartedly that they existed. He had to wonder sometimes if Luna’s anomalous tendencies were sincere. Perhaps she simply pretended to be so blissfully oblivious to reality. Harry had to admit, the ruse was either brilliant… or exceedingly pointless.

He stepped down the stairs, thoughts blank and the house silent for a moment.

It was then that his mind decided to recall the events of his dream. Harry frowned. It’s not as if it could even really be called a “wet dream”. He didn’t actually… and nothing really happened. Well, Voldemort did bite his neck… Harry frowned in distaste mingled with frustration as he recalled the ghostly feeling of teeth and lips on his skin. The echo of the place where the Voldemort of his dream had touched him burned. He never thought Voldemort knew how to touch like that.

Wait a second! It was a dream! Voldemort probably couldn’t touch like that. It’s not as if it was the real man pressing up against him, hands running through his hair…

“Gah!” Harry let out a frustrated growl and slapped his hands to his head in an attempt to rip his own thoughts from his skull. Perhaps he should just obliviate himself. At least then he wouldn’t know why he was going crazy.

Zipping up his jacket, Harry rubbed his forehead roughly and opened the front door of Grimmauld Place, stepping into the crisp night air. He knew it was a bad idea to leave the safehouse without anyone with him—and at night on top of that!—but he couldn’t help his desire to move and clear his mind.

The fresh air hit his lungs and he let out a sigh of appreciation. Even though his friends would not like or approve of the idea, Harry needed some alone time, and as he looked up at the remarkably starry sky of the rich, midnight black above, he knew tonight was the perfect night.

Suddenly, he felt invigorated and energized. Tonight would be a good night. Yes. He needed this.

And he began to walk down the street, hands in his pockets and street lights flickering overhead. A squirrel scurried across the street and he could help but jump a little at the movement. Life had made him so skittish.

He reached back and arm and scratched the back of his neck in thought, craning his neck back to look at the sky. He hadn’t really looked at it when he’d come outside, but now that he was down the street, he felt the need to admire the crystals sparkling in the sea of black.

He smiled softly and let his arm drop back to his side, the stars filling his eyes with warmth as he gazed at them. Without any sort of warning, he began to cry. Hot, long-needed tears began to streak their way silently down his cold-flushed cheeks. As he looked with a heavy heart at the landscape above, he couldn’t help but see the eyes of Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore shining back at him; their gazes loving and understanding.

For a very long, painful moment, Harry felt extremely alone and vulnerable. He had to resist the strong urge to simply fall to his knees and waste away. He didn’t know where it had come from, but he knew right then that it had been lingering on the surface. The immense drowning of guilt that he had felt after his mentors’ deaths had always weighed heavily upon him, but he had never taken a moment to spare a thought for the fact that they were gone.

It wasn’t the fact that they were dead which caused him to cry. No, it was the realization that he was no longer a child and that he no longer had those parental figures to take care of him and guide him. He was truly on his own to stand and keep his balance. If he fell he would have to catch himself. The thought made him feel both very powerful and very exposed. He went numb for a moment and his mind fell into blankness. He didn’t feel as sad as he felt cheated. Merlin, he felt so cheated.

He didn’t bother to wipe his face of the salty tracks on his pale face as he sat against the gate of the alleyway he’d found himself in, letting his head fall back with a resounding thump as he gazed at the street sign at the end of the alley in a soft contemplation.

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Lord Voldemort was sitting once more in his armchair, this time glaring with a vengeance at the door across the room. He had allowed himself too much sleep as of late. That must be the explanation for such a… a ridiculous dream.

He rolled his slitted, garnet eyes in annoyance and rubbed the area where he should have had a bridge of his nose.

Now, to add to the disdain he already felt, he was now once more lamenting the loss of a crucial facial feature.

He retracted his hand, discontent in feeling the inhumanity of his face. Turning a woeful and irritated glance towards his side table, he almost lost his balance where he sat as his vision was thrown, not to his side table, but a dark street side.

An emotional agony that was not his own overwhelmed him, and he all but succumbed to a heart-tearing sorrow.

Was this Potter?

What in the world had happened?

The boy’s gaze remained fixed on the worn street sign, barely readable in the unlit area. The closest street lamp was across the street, and it cast a sparse, eerie glow of flickering yellow onto the pavement. By the looks of his surroundings and height, he was sitting in an abandoned alleyway.

Voldemort frowned through the mental intrusion, finding it difficult to grasp his own thoughts as his own emotions wrestled with Harry’s. It was an odd experience. He wondered indistinctly if Harry knew he was in his mind, but his more substantial curiosities got the best of that question.

Was Potter a fool? What was he doing out alone at night? Even he wasn’t idiotic enough to go out alone unless something very unsettling had forced him to go against better judgment. Then again, maybe Harry just hadn’t been blessed with good judgment. Severus had told the Dark Lord many times of the teen’s foolhardy adventures and hotheaded decisions.

Most likely this was a spur of the moment venture.

After what seemed like hours, Voldemort fell out of Harry’s mind only to be thrown by the sudden change of surroundings. He blinked rapidly a few times and readjusted himself, shifting in her chair and leaning forward, elbows on his knees and hands clasped.

The street sign had said Atherton. Tom was fairly certain that had been the word. Yes, Atherton Circle. That was not a common street name. It would not be too difficult to find if he apparated. After all, he already knew what the surroundings looked like.

He looked down at his hands. What would be the point of going there? He had no desire to kill the boy at the moment, and he had already gotten proof that the event that took place at Hogwarts was no hoax. Why then, did he wish to go there?

With no true reason or explanation for such a trip, Riddle found himself doubting his own thoughts and intentions. What did he intend? Why not just go kill the boy now? He was alone, off-guard, and in a weak emotional state. It would be easy.

As the Dark Lord thought over this question, he came to realize that the idea of actually killing Harry was strange to him. He could not imagine the boy being dead. He had been the sole focus of his life for the past sixteen years. When Potter was finally finished, what would that leave him with?

Dumbfounded with his own inner discovery, Voldemort felt angered with himself. Was this weakness? Had he actually doubted himself in his ability to kill Harry potter? No. No, it wasn’t that. He had just realized how strange it would be. He had done nothing but concentrate on achieving the boy’s demise for so long that now it was his driving venom.

Harry, in the sick ironic way that life always plays out, was what made him the powerful Dark Lord he was. Without the young wizard, Tom was merely another villain with a vendetta for ruin.

Harry gave him purpose.

How odd.

What, then, would he achieve by going to the alleyway where Harry sat right now? Why was he even still considering this strange temptation? Was he hoping to find answers to all the questions that had drowned themselves into the deepest pools of his mind?

Was he hoping?

For what?

What did he need with hope?

Scowling, he slammed a spiny fist into the arm of his chair. He was getting sick of his own contemplations. He was beginning to feel a vulnerability that was not Harry’s this time. What was it about Harry Potter that made the Dark Lord question himself so much?

Tom knew that the answer to his questions did not reside in the alleyway of Atherton Circle, but he felt drawn to it, nonetheless.

Seeing as he had absolutely no desire to return to the monster of sleep, Voldemort stood and brushed off his robes as if they’d recently been sullied. He looked around the room, knowing that it was impossible that he was being watched, but still feeling it necessary to check.

Why did he feel like he was a teenager sneaking out of the house once his parents were asleep?

He was Lord Voldemort. He could go where he wanted when he wanted. He had no need to explain himself to anyone.

It was with that thought that he disapparated.

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Harry was dazed and restless, staring out at the street with a detached bit of emotion. He cheeks were taut from his dried tears. It felt as though the salty proof of his misery had shrunken his skin to his skull. He wanted to move, flex his cheeks and not let them feel so tight, but he couldn’t seem to muster energy for the movement, so he resigned himself to staring dully at the street sign to his right.

A small tug at the back of his mind made his eye twitch reflexively, disregarding the odd sensation for mere emotional trauma.

However, when his scar began to twinge in a small and uncomfortable burning tingle, he pulled himself away from his incoherent state and began to look around wildly. He winced and touched his fingers to his forehead. His scar only hurt like this when-

“My, my, what are you doing out here?” a cold, high voice hissed. “And so very alone?”

Harry shot to his feet, but his legs wobbled from lack of circulation and he had to grasp the fence to his left for support. His eyes caught the figure in the shadows.

This time Voldemort had not opted it necessary to change his appearance. He had come out bold and uncaring, his reptilian exterior for all the world to see; though Harry highly doubted that anyone in the world was actually at Atherton Circle to see it. That was a rather worrisome thought, really.

“Really, Harry,” Tom hissed, “You shouldn’t be out alone. Terrible things could happen…” Voldemort let the sentence drift, allowing it to hold more foreboding as he walked out from the shadows with a sneer. He didn’t really know why his was threatening Harry. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It was practical.

He confessed himself surprised and almost a little disappointed when Harry did not draw a wand and threaten to attack him. It was likely that the boy had been foolish enough to leave it back where he had come from, wherever that may be.

Harry was silent and unmoving, his gaze flowing past the Dark Lord and into the shadows, eyes narrowed.

“Once again, I come alone,” Riddle said smoothly, waving a thin hand through the air as he gestured behind him in assurance of his solidarity.

Harry gave him an odd look. “I don’t understand…” he trailed off, his eyes locked with Voldemort’s as he tried to inspect him, looking for some answer within the blood red irises. “If it is so easy for you to find me, then why have you not killed me yet?”

“Do give me some credit,” Voldemort said crossly, taking a step forward. “I am the most powerful dark wizard of my time. It is no difficult feat to find someone.” He decided against mentioning his views of Harry’s thoughts. It was possible that the teen thought the connection only went one way. No need to ruin that little surprise right now.

Harry shook his head. “Why haven’t you killed me, then?” he was earnestly perplexed, and Tom thought he saw the echo of another feeling deep within the emerald eyes, but he did not think on it. He had feared this question. It was one he had asked himself many times.

At Voldemort’s silence, Harry spoke again. “You could do it right now,” he continued, “Why do you keep coming to me without Death Eaters? Why don’t you torture me? I don’t understand why… what do you want from me?”

“Do you want to be tortured Harry?” Riddle replied smoothly, slowly drifting towards the younger wizard. Harry backed up a bit, but his eyes never left the other’s. “Do you want me to kill you?”

Harry swallowed. “Don’t toy with me,” he growled. There was that Gryffindor inside him. Tom was beginning to wonder if it was going to surface at all. “All you’ve wanted to do is kill me and hurt me. Yet now when you kidnap me you don’t try anything. Now you are here but you haven’t even taken out your wand. If you’re going to kill me then just do it. Quit dragging it out.” His glare was hard and determined. Was he egging him on?

Voldemort smirked to mask his bemusement. He had gotten close to Harry at this point; maybe only two or three feet away. The boy had been so busy interrogating him that he hadn’t realized he was being cornered by the fence.

Voldemort surveyed him for a second or two before speaking, slowly and clearly. “The time will come when it is time for you and I to face each other for a final battle,” he said softly, tracing Harry’s lighting bolt scar with his eyes. “But it is not today. It is… not yet time.”

“Oh I see,” Harry breathed, baring his teeth like an angry wolf. “You want to wait and kill me when it will benefit you the most; when it will scare the most people and give you the most control.” His eyes rose to follow the dark wizard’s as the man stepped even closer to him.

“You are quite astute, Harry,” the older wizard purred, looking down into the passionate orbs below his. “Yes, that is one reason why I wait.”

“What is the other reason?” Harry asked, pressing himself as far as he could into the wood planks of the fence as Voldemort loomed ever closer, his face just inches away from Harry’s as he spoke.

“I do not know,” he replied honestly, earning a disbelieving look from Harry as he said it. “Doubt that as you may, Harry, I have not yet discovered why I haven’t killed you yet. Perhaps it is merely that your luck is far too evasive.”

“Bullshit,” Harry retorted, starting to feel uncomfortable as the snake-like man’s breath hit his face. “You could have done it ten-thousand times-“

“Now you exaggerate,” Tom answered, “If it is assurance that you need, I assure you that I will kill you soon enough.” He smiled, but only slightly.

Harry didn’t respond.

“Have you ever dreamt of a room with a fireplace?” Tom asked suddenly.

Harry’s eyes shot up to face him in shock. “What?”

“You heard my question, Potter.”

Harry’s mouth snapped shut and his heartbeat shot skyward. That was all the answer Voldemort needed. He reached a hand up and pressed his fingertips to Harry’s cheek, an action reminiscent of the day in the graveyard. Harry tried to jerk back, but there was nowhere to go as Voldemort changed once more before his eyes. Dark eyes sought his own and Riddle’s countenance burned with an unrecognizable emotion.

“What is this spell you have put me under?” Voldemort whispered, his short, dark hair rippling in a nonexistent wind.

“I told you I didn’t-“

But lips had closed down roughly on his own and his words were muffled by mouth as arms gripped violently at his shoulders. He mind was reeling and he willed himself not to move and Tom kissed him with a harsh fervor, as if the man had not felt someone’s touch in a very long time. Harry shut his eyes tightly and clenched his fists at his sides, dying slowly under the bruising dance that Voldemort played with his lips.

Harry was overwhelmed by the longing that accompanied the touch, and he felt himself unable to resist but likewise unable to reciprocate, having no desire to do either.

A tongue flicked out softly and briefly, as though getting one last taste, before Voldemort pulled away, letting go of Harry’s shoulders roughly with a blank look as he returned back to his cursed form for yet another time. His eyes were averted, a surprisingly submissive act for the Dark Lord.

Harry was lost of his words, his mouth still tingling and sore from the war that had just been waged upon it moments ago. He let his head fall and he looked away. Let Voldemort kill him now. Though he had not taken part, he had not tried to stop him. For this Harry felt nothing but shame and embarrassment. He wished the man would just kill him then so that he did not have to feel another moment of this overwhelming emotion.

He wished Voldemort would say something—anything—but the man just stood there, his expression cold and distant as he glared pointlessly at the Atherton Circle sign.

Harry opened his mouth, his body forcing him to speak when his mind did not want to. Yet, as he offered a mere syllable, Voldemort turned on the spot and vanished, leaving Harry alone in the darkness.

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 **  
Wtfomg I just totally hit you with a kiss! Boo ya! Didn’t see that one coming, did ya? Or maybe you did.…. Either way, I feel vaguely satisfied with how this turned out.**

**WHERE’S MY SANDWICH?!**

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	11. Acrimony

**ckret2 (fanfiction.net): I thoroughly enjoyed your review for chapter ten. You’re spot on about my intentions and you’ve interpreted my story exactly how I’ve wanted people to interpret it. I’m thrilled to have you as a reader!**

**A/N: For those of you who were not graced with the reading of ckret2’s review, you truly should. They even figured out that the sandwich dream was a complete and utter metaphor. Like I said, that dream wasn’t just pointless comedy, though I did enjoy writing the humor. It had a meaning.**

**Warning: This chapter is a really sudden mood change from chapter 10, just to let you all know. This is a lot less fluffy and a lot more… uh…….MORE**

**Anyways…**

**READ NOW AND THEN REVIEW OR I WILL THROW PICKLES AT YOU ALL!**

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 __  
Lie awake in bed at night  
And think about your life  
Do you want to be different?  
Try to let go of the truth  
The battles of your youth  
’Cause this is just a game

_It's a beautiful lie_  
It's a perfect denial  
Such a beautiful lie to believe in  
So beautiful, beautiful lie makes me 

_It's time to forget about the past_  
To wash away what happened last  
Hide behind an empty face  
Don't ask too much, just say  
'Cause this is just a game 

_It's a beautiful lie_  
It's a perfect denial  
Such a beautiful lie to believe in  
So beautiful, beautiful lie makes me 

_Lie...Beautiful_

_Everyone's looking at me_  
I'm running around in circles  
A quiet desperation's building higher  
I've got to remember this is just a game 

_So beautiful, beautiful..._

_It's a beautiful lie_  
It's a perfect denial -  
Such a beautiful lie to believe in  
So beautiful, beautiful lie makes me 

_-30 Seconds to mars- Beautiful Lie_  
  
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Featherlight Taction

Chapter 11- Acrimony  
  
Draco shifted uncomfortably in a plush armchair of the room. He was currently, very unwillingly so, waiting in his study as his father, mother, and Severus Snape tried to calm an irate Dark Lord. The young blonde had absolutely no idea what had made Voldemort so furious, and he had absolutely no desire to find out.

He glanced at the door in worry as there was a loud, angry bellow and a crash. He considered getting up to make sure his father and mother were ok, but his father had told him to stay put, and frankly, he wasn’t brave enough to face whatever chaos was taking place downstairs.

Instead, as another shout and a shattering of glass was heard, Draco stood up hastily and grabbed his broom, pushing open the window and taking off out of it without another thought, wanting to get as far away from the manor as possible.

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His heart beat raced and slowed continuously with his thoughts, an angering undulation. Harry paced back and forth in his room, throwing vicious glances at the wall, the door, the bed. His fists were clenched into tight balls and his eyes fluttered rapidly with his heartbeats.

Voldemort had kissed him. What the bloody hell had that been about?! That bastard had probably been mocking him. He was probably showing how easy it was to get close to Harry when he was unable to defend himself. Harry let out a ferocious kick to his bedside and his rage ebbed for a moment.

He knew somehow that, that had not been the reason for the Dark Lord’s actions. Maybe that had driven it, somehow, but Harry felt deep down that something else lurked beneath the surface of Tom Riddle’s strange and perplexing behavior.

However, Harry would much rather believe the incident to be one of complete malice. To think that something less threatening was the true cause would give Voldemort too much humanity. He did not deserve an ounce of humanity, and Harry was not about to grant him that benefit of the doubt.

He felt his stomach twist and his anger rose again. He hated that he could still feel Voldemort’s lips on his, like a burning scar that would never leave. He began to rub at his lips vehemently with the back of his hand. His swiped at them, again and again, until they were so sore he thought he must have rubbed the very skin off. He dropped his hand and scowled at the rug below his feet.

He was sick of being so confused. Ever since the day they had destroyed the diadem, everything in Harry’s life had crashed in all directions, rippling into a thousand tiny pieces that he could no longer decipher. He was lost.

And as the days wore on, he wondered maybe if just continuing Dumbledore’s mission would make it go away. This had all started with the destruction of the horcrux. Maybe destroying another one would make it all stop. Maybe if he destroyed all the horcruxes, he would finally be able to destroy Voldemort, and he would never again have to wonder about that look in the Dark Lord’s eyes as he was changed into that man from his dreams. Never again would he have to think about that man. Never again would he have to touch him…

Could it possibly be that easy?

Probably not. Things were never that easy… or that simple. Yet, at least searching for the horcruxes would take his mind off of… whatever was going on. He didn’t want to think about it any more, and if destroying the horcruxes would help him with that, he would kill two birds with one stone.

As such, Harry spent the days following that night at Atherton Circle either locked in the library or interrogating various Order members on where known Death Eater hideouts were.

So far, they’d gotten absolutely nowhere.

“Come on, Remus, just tell us!” Harry pleaded with Lupin, leaning across the kitchen table as he did so.

Remus sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t see why you three need this information. What would you achieve by going to the residences of known Death Eaters?”

“We believe that some things could be hidden where they live,” Hermione responded from her spot at the end of the table. Her bushy brown hair was tied back into a long ponytail and she was currently leafing through her notes. Ron nodded from behind her. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, hands stuck in his pockets and expression bored. They hadn’t talked to Harry about his latest fit of horcrux obsession, deciding that it was better than him not wanting to search for them at all.

They knew their friend was hurting and confused, but they also knew that to force Harry Potter to tell them why was worse than remaining silent and letting him tell them in time.

Remus still looked unsure. “You cannot be certain-“  
’Of course we can’t be certain!” Harry interjected, his hair more messy than its usual chaos and dark circles under his eyes. He looked a mess. “Nothing in this war is certain, but we do know that Voldemort has some high level Death Eaters. He probably entrusts them with all sorts of things. Where better to hide stuff than with your most loyal and most deadly followers?”  
Remus felt his heart sink when Harry had said the word “war”. He knew that this was a war, but hearing Harry say it held a different kind of connotation. It made the whole thing seem more terrible, somehow. “I…” he trailed off, torn between responses. He could tell that Harry had not slept in days. The boy’s obsessive nature would possibly be his downfall one day. Remus felt obligated to tell him nothing, make sure the teen got some sleep, and then possibly hope that they would no longer want to know this information; but he was wise enough to know from experience with Harry and James that the green-eyed wizard would not rest until he had sated his obsession with his latest quest. If Remus didn’t tell them what they wanted to know, they were likely to go out uninformed, putting them in more danger than they’d be in if he helped them.

“Who’s location do you wish to know?” the werewolf sighed, defeated.

Harry’s eyes lit up and even Ron and Hermione smiled triumphantly.

“Well…” Hermione thumbed through her notes for a moment, scanning the parchment. “We figure that Lucius Malfoy would be a great place to start. He’d bragged to Harry before about being in high regard with Voldemort, and we all know that he recently escaped from Azkaban. He couldn’t have done that without help, so it’s pretty obvious that Voldemort values him at least.”  
Remus chuckled with little mirth. “I was afraid you would say him. Malfoy manor is a very well protected place. How do you intend on getting in and out undetected? You three may be good at magic, but you’re not good enough to do it on your own.”

“Well they’re not going alone, so I guess that won’t be a problem.” A light, cheery voice had entered the room. It was Tonks.

“Tonks! When did you get here?” Hermione cried happily. She and Tonks had become great friends over the past few months, the pink haired witch being one of Hermione’s few female contacts since the trio had left Hogwarts.

Nymphadora grinned. “I was tired of doing nothing, so I decided to visit!”

A low growl sounded behind her. “Have some dignity as an auror. Tracking down Death Eaters is not “doing nothing”.”

“Moody!” Harry said with a smile, standing from his chair to greet the grumpy wizard, whose eye was currently spinning around as if it was trying to spot a golden snitch.

Mad-Eye grunted with a slight nod and turned his gaze to Remus. “To think you’d let children go off to the Malfoys. I won’t hear of it!” He hobbled into the room and ignored Lupin’s offended look as he took a seat at the table.

This comment caught Harry’s attention, though. “Moody, we have to go alone,” he said, frowning.

“Ha!” It sounded more like a cough than a laugh. “Don’t even think about it, Potter,” the rough ex-auror replied indignantly. “If you think we’re going to let you go to Lucius Malfoy’s house alone, then you’ve got hit with a few too many spells, boy. We’ll go with you and that’s that.” He eyed Harry pointedly and Harry opened his mouth vainly to reply, glancing helplessly at Ron and Hermione. They looked just as trapped as him.

Tonks seemed to understand their reluctance, and she piped up suddenly, her bubblegum hair bouncing a little as she spoke. “Look, you guys don’t have to tell us why you have to go there. All we know is that you need our help, and that’s what we’re here for.”

Moody frowned, not really liking being uninformed, but he nodded anyway in agreement.

Ron and Hermione smiled, relieved. They seemed to like the idea. Harry wasn’t as sure.

“I don’t know, guys…”

“What’s not to know?” Moody huffed, “You have to be smart about these things, Potter. Constant vigilance!”

“They’re right, Harry,” Hermione ventured softly, gazing unblinkingly at her friend. “We need all the help we can get, and we don’t have to tell them anything.” Tonks winked at Harry when Hermione said this. It made him feel a bit better.

Harry looked away from them all, thinking over the idea. Help would really make things go a lot easier, especially from Tonks and Moody. He didn’t want to put them in danger though, but it was probably more likely that he, Ron, and Hermione would be in even more danger if the others didn’t help them. After all, the Malfoys were dangerous people.

Sneaking into their house was not going to be simple.

“It’s going to take a lot of planning,” Harry said slowly, “I’m not even sure if we can do it. I mean, how are we supposed to find something in a manor that we’ve never been to before?”

“Well that’s simple!” Tonks, answered, causing all heads to turn to her. She walked up to the table and leaned forward on it excitedly, her palms resting heavily on the wooden surface. “We’ll just make them think we’ve been there before.”  
”And how do you suppose we do that, Nymphadora?” Moody responded disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow at her.

She glared over at him for the use of her first name and then turned to the teens with a toothy grin. “I assume you three are familiar with Draco Malfoy?”

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Normally, there would have been a bit more planning before going on such a dangerous mission, but Tonks, Ron, and Harry had been so gung-ho about the whole thing that the plans were roughly finished by evening. They were ready, save for three very annoyed comrades who believed that they needed more time to plan. These comrades being the very formidable Moody, Remus, and Hermione.

\--

“This is ridiculous!” Hermione shrieked as Harry grabbed his cloak. He whirled around to face her, looking terrified. He’d never heard Hermione shriek before. “I can’t believe you are ready to go to the Malfoys’ with so little planning!”

“’Mione…” Ron tried nervously to calm her, but she batted him away with a rushed “Quiet, Ronald!”

“Hermione,” Harry said defensively, standing straighter as if preparing himself to battle a dragon. “It’s not just a little planning. It’s perfect. We can go there on broom and Ron will polyjuice himself into Malfoy once we find him and knock him out, which shouldn’t be too hard.” Ron snickered, but Hermione shot him a baleful glare and he silenced. “You and I will follow him under the invisibility cloak and-“

“That’s absolutely stupid!” Hermione cut Harry off, her bushy hair bouncing as she spoke with fervor. “The invisibility cloak is not going to help you if they suspect something. It’s completely unsafe!”

“No one’s ever caught us under that thing, Hermione!” Harry replied.

She paused for a second, her face flushed. “That’s not the point! What if they catch us? What if they realize Ron isn’t Malfoy?”  
”We’ve been to enough years of school with that git that I’m sure I can play him perfectly,” Ron responded mimicking Draco’s arrogant smirk.

“Hermione, if worse comes to worse, they’re just the Malfoys,” Harry said calmly, grabbing his invisibility cloak from under his bed. “And Tonks, Moody, and Remus will be waiting above the house on their brooms. If anything goes wrong, they’ll be there to help us in a second.”

“But Harry-“  
”Hermione,” Harry said more firmly, looking at her with a pained stare. “I need this.”  
Caught off guard, the witch sighed and slouched a bit. “Fine… but promise you two will be careful.” She turned to Ron with an anxious expression.  
Ron walked forward and placed a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We promise.”

\--

“Nymphadora!”

“Don’t call me Nymphadora!”

“Tonks,” Remus tried, sitting a calming hand on Mad-Eye’s shoulder. “Do you really think it is wise to do this?” ”Don’t be silly!” Tonks retorted. “It’s about time we had something to do, and let’s hope the Malfoys are dumb enough to attack Harry so we can fight back and send them all to Azkaban again.”  
”Ha!” Moody laughed gruffly. “Voldemort will have them out in a day!”  
”Then I guess we’ll have to do something besides send them to Azkaban,” Tonks replied devilishly. Moody rolled his eye.

“Tonks, surely you can’t expect the kids to get in and out of there without a hitch?” Remus asked, hoping she would suddenly see reason and stop encouraging the teens to move forward with the plan.

“Of course they won’t,” the pink-haired witch replied. “But I also know that Lucius Malfoy won’t dare hurt Harry without Voldemort’s consent.”

“That doesn’t say what will happen to Ron and Hermione.”

“We’ll be right above the house! If anything happens, we’ll be there in a second,” Tonks replied with annoyance. “Those kids are strong, and Lucius isn’t that much of a threat. He’s dangerous, but he’s not as skilled as he boasts. You’ve fought him before. You should know!”

“Yes!” Moody spat back, his magical eye swirling like a top. “I have fought him! But he is a Death Eater! These children do not know the magic that he is capable of. They do not understand what he will do to them without a moment’s hesitation.”

“Yes we do.” Harry’s crystalline voice had entered the room, and the three squabbling adults turned to face him.

Harry had the invisibility cloak tucked under his arm and Ron and Hermione stood by him like sentinels. “We know exactly what they are capable of. If you haven’t forgotten, we’ve fought them before as well.”  
The room was silent. Hermione broke it.

“With all due respect,” she said, “We aren’t children anymore. Harry, Ron, and I have faced a lot more than most people our age. If there’s anyone who can handle Malfoy…”

“It would be you,” Remus concluded solemnly.

Moody and Tonks were regarding the three with a silent respect. It was true. The trio really had grown up.

“Right then,” the ex-auror said suddenly, hobbling over to the doorway and giving Harry a look of what could have only been fondness. “Why are we all standing here? Let’s get a move on.”

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Draco had stopped in the grass a few football fields away from the manor. The huge house looked now like a toy, placed randomly on miles and miles of forests and fields. The flashes of light had stopped coming from the windows, but he was certain that if he would have stopped closer, he would still be able to hear the angered screams of the Dark Lord and his father’s lame attempts to calm him.

He glanced up at the blue sky and then back at the house. Wait…

His eyes shot skyward. Six figures on broomsticks loomed high above the grounds. At first he had thought them to be birds, but upon closer inspection he found that those were definitely not winged creatures of any sort, and they were heading towards the manor.

Draco knew well by this point that if Death Eaters ever visited his home, they came by way of apparition, never broomstick. Hopping onto his Nimbus, he sped off to the house. He had to warn his father…

Suddenly, there was a flash of red light, almost invisible against the light of the sunny day, and Malfoy fell from his broom unconscious.

The sound of numerous feet hitting the ground could be heard around the unconscious boy, and someone laughed. “Bloody hell! What was he doing, waiting for us?”

“We should have known Malfoy to be stupid enough to make this easy for us,” Harry snorted.  
”I wonder why he was out here?” Hermione pondered aloud, looking over at the majestic manor down the hill.

“Who cares?” Ron replied, tugging out a lock of Malfoy’s hair a little too roughly and handing it to Moody.

Hermione frowned and looked down at the crumpled figure, feeling a moment of pity before Harry and Tonks picked him up and started carrying him towards the forest. “What are you going to do with him?” she called, not really knowing why she even cared. She had gone to school with him, and even if he’d constantly called her “mudblood” and other such profanities, she still felt a kind of connection to him; at least through age and experience, if nothing else.

“We’ll immobilize him and stick him in a tree, I suppose,” Tonks called back with a smile. Harry was grinning and Ron began to guffaw.

Moody slapped Ron roughly on the back and Ron let out a kind of choked hiccup. “What was that for?!”

“Here’s the potion,” Moody stated, shoving it into Ron’s palm.

“Oh…” It was a shimmering gold. Ron grimaced. “Just like Malfoy. Even his polyjuice potion looks like money.”

“Hurry up and swallow it,” Moody growled, picking up his broom and mounting it as Remus did the same. “The sooner we get this done with, the better.”

Ron nodded and eyed the contents of the vial suspiciously before downing it and coughing directly afterwards. “Ugh! Tastes like earwax!”

“Bet it was at least better tasting than Goyle’s,” Harry stated with amusement as he and Tonks returned from the forest.

Ron didn’t reply as he witnessed his body change. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to take polyjuice. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience to feel your skin bubble and your skeleton change shape. To his surprise, Malfoy wasn’t that much shorter than him, and he was far more lean; bordering on the point of bony. Hermione was looking at him bitterly and Ron pointed an affronted finger at her. “Hey! Don’t look at me like that! I’m not actually him, you know!”

Hermione blushed and looked away. “Sorry, it’s just that seeing his face reminds me of all the nasty things he’s done.”  
Ron frowned. “He was a right git to treat you like that, ‘Mione,” he said earnestly.

Hermione turned to him and her eyes widened. Out of nowhere, she burst out laughing.

“W-what?!” Ron spluttered, clearly embarrassed and confused.

Hermione was doubled over, unable to control her laughter and tears popped out at the corner of her eyes. “It’s…it’s just so funny to see Malfoy calling himself a git!” Hermione giggled, finally regaining some ounce of control.

Ron turned to Harry with a helpless look.

Harry winked at him and tried valiantly to hold back his laughter. “You should have seen your expression, mate,” he said, “It was way too… nice-looking for Malfoy.”

“Well it’s not like we’re at the manor yet!” Ron replied defensively. He looked at his left arm and frowned. “He’s even got the Dark Mark,” he murmured with revulsion.

“You best get into character now, Ron,” Remus said, nodding towards the house. “You three should get going. The potion does have a time limit, you know.”

The teens turned serious and nodded, shrinking their brooms and placing them in their robe pockets. Harry picked the invisibility cloak and, with one last nod at Tonks, Remus, and Moody, he swung it around his and Hermione’s shoulders and they disappeared.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Voldemort paced back and forth in the library, his wand drawn and shattered glass from a vase lying around him. Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus were watching him carefully. Lucius’ cheek bore a long cut from one of the Dark Lord’s vengeful curses; just inches away from his eye.

“You have found nothing?!” Voldemort repeated for the umpteenth time, turning a severe eye to Severus.

Severus bowed, his long, black hair curtaining his face. “No, my Lord,” he stated blankly. “No books that we have found speak anything of such an occurrence. It is unheard of.”

“Well obviously it is not unheard of or it would not have happened!” Tom spat back, mercilessly casting the Cruciatus on the ex-Professor and scowling as he watched the man cry out in agony as his friends watched on in horror.

Sighing, he lifted the curse and turned away from the panting and shaking man, his gaze now focused on Lucius. “You have disappointed me.”  
Lucius bowed deeply. “I am eternally sorry, my Lord,” he said smoothly. “I assure you, I have done my best.”  
”Well your best did not succeed in doing much, did it, Lucius?” Voldemort responded cruelly, his red eyes narrowing.  
”No, milord, I am sorry. I will accept any punishment.” The man was still in his bow.

Riddle was about the raise his wand and cast another bout of pain when they heard the front door of the manor open. They all looked towards the direction of the sound, and Voldemort nodded to Lucius, who hurriedly left the room to find out who had just entered his home.

Ron walked forward cautiously, feeling extremely exposed in the elaborate entryway of Malfoy manor. He could hear the quiet breathing of his friends behind him, and they pushed him forward softly. He’d taken only two steps into the house when none other than a very bedraggled Lucius Malfoy appeared before him. A deep gash colored his left cheek and he was very sweaty and pale. What was going on?

“Father,” Ron said slowly, the sound of saying such a thing to Lucius very alien to him. It was almost as if he had just cursed.

Lucius looked furious. “I thought I told you to stay in your study!” he growled, glancing back from where he had come with apprehension.

“I…I was just going for a walk,” Ron said dumbly, looking back where his friends stood with fear.

“You went for a walk while the Dark Lord is here?!” Lucius spat, both shocked and outraged. “What is the matter with you?”

Ron looked like a deer caught in headlights and Harry’s mind raced. Nononononono… Voldemort was here? But why?

“I am sorry, father,” Ron said softly, averting his eyes shamefully.

Lucius’ demeanor seemed to soften slightly as he saw his son cower. He opened his mouth to respond, but a high, cold voice beat him to it.

“Draco,” the Dark Lord hissed as he walked from the shadows to stand next to Lucius. Severus Snape and Narcissa Malfoy followed close behind him. Narcissa looked very scared as she stared at her son with horror. Snape’s robes were torn and he was hunching slightly, as if in great pain.

The trio realized quickly that they couldn’t have chosen a worse time to come to Malfoy manor.

Ron bowed to the reptilian man, having absolutely no idea of what he was supposed to do.

Voldemort chuckled. “No need to be so tense, boy,” he said softly, advancing slowly. Ron was sweating torrents now, his raging heartbeat matching those of his friends’ behind him.

Tom Riddle stopped before the pale blonde, looking down at him suspiciously. “May I ask what you were doing?”

Lucius took a step forward. “My Lord, he was merely-“  
”I did not ask you that question, Lucius,” Voldemort snapped coldly. Lucius fell silent.

“I… I was taking a walk, my Lord,” Ron muttered, his eyes staring with a strong determination at the marble floors.

“Is that so?” the Dark Lord said, smiling. “Is my company that hard to bear? That you must leave this house?”

Ron felt a jolt of horror strike through him. “…Please, no. I do not think that at all!” he was losing his cool and Hermione knew it. She reached up and touched his back softly. This was the wrong this to do. Ron jumped and Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. He turned around to face Lucius. “This is no our son,” he said simply.

“W-what?!” Lucius sputtered, looking past his master to his terrified son, who was staring at him with wide gray eyes. “Of course he is!”

“Don’t be a fool, Lucius,” Tom replied, spinning his wand towards the fake Draco. Narcissa let out a frightened cry as Ron flew back into his friends and the three collapsed to the floor. Harry saw his foot peeking out from the invisibility cloak and tried desperately to pull it back in, but Voldemort had already noticed and he was walking towards them quickly.

In a split-second decision, Harry and Hermione threw of the invisibility cloak and drew their wands. Gasps of surprise echoed throughout the hall and Tom stopped dead, staring at Harry with an unreadable expression. “Potter,” he said darkly.

Harry returned his look with a venomous stare.

Hermione saw Lucius and Snape exchange shocked looks before turning back to the center of the room and drawing their wands with… was that hesitance?

Ron pushed himself up off the floor and saw Lucius beckoning to him. “Come here, son,” he said, softly so as not to disturb Voldemort and Harry’s staring contest.

Ron shook his head and Lucius’ expression went dark. “You are not him?” he asked. Ron shook his head again.

“Where is he?” His tone held a deep worry and Ron couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. “He’s fine,” he said quietly. Lucius drew back a bit, obviously relieved.

“Enough of this!” Voldemort snarled, pulling back into a dueling stance. “Kill them now! Potter is mine.”

Snape and Malfoy looked shocked at the order for a moment, but they quickly remembered themselves and aimed their wands at the two Gryffindors.

“Avada Kedavra!” Snape shouted, purposefully missing Hermione by a few centimeters.

She cried out as the hissing magic scalded her ear and she shot off a stunning spell towards the sallow-faced man, who dodged it easily.

Ron and Lucius were staring each other down, neither willing to make a move. It seemed Lucius was unable to attack even the image of his son. This hesitance was mirrored by Ron. He felt bad, for some reason, to attack Lucius while he looked like Malfoy. It would be like him attacking his own father.

Voldemort called out a spell that sounded a lot like Reducto, and moments later, the door by which Harry had been standing was blasted to bits, sending shards of wood everywhere. Harry had dove out of the way just in time, taking Ron with him as they fell to the floor to avoid the blast.

Harry sent a body bind towards the Dark Lord, who flicked it away with agitation. Flashes of light were everywhere now. Narcissa had finally decided to do something and she was attacking Hermione mercilessly. Ron was trying to help her, but as soon as Lucius saw the visage of his son attack his own mother, he came to his sense and began to throw spells at the thief of his son’s skin.

Severus was trying to calm Lucius and was throwing spells at absolutely no one as he did so, trying to make it look like he was doing something.

Harry was being driven out onto the grounds as Voldemort attacked him with a furious onslaught of spells. Even through all the jets of light, Harry realized that the man had not cast one unforgivable. In fact, he was only casting minor curses and jinxes; nothing that would do actual damage to him.  
For some reason, this only made Harry more furious. He began to attack back with equal ardor as he and his friend were driven into the middle of a field outside the manor.

Soon Tonks, Remus, and Moody had landed on the ground behind the teens, and the battle stopped for a moment.

Voldemort scowled as he realized what was happening. “Severus!”

Snape walked swiftly over to the Dark Lord and nodded. “Yes, my Lord?”

“Give me your arm.”

Severus knew what was happening, but he could not risk hesitation, lest he give away his desire to do their opponents no harm. He knew, as he held out his left arm to Voldemort, that this would not bode well for the Order members. Tom pressed a bony index finger to Snape’s dark mark, and it immediately began to twist and burn.

“He calling Death Eaters,” Moody growled from behind Harry and Hermione. He, Tonks, and Remus already had their wands drawn. Lupin was currently glaring daggers at Snape, and Tonks was continuously changing her facial features and making faces at two disgusted looking Malfoys.

Sure enough, the sky began to hiss with black smoke as Death Eaters appeared from nowhere, shooting from above to land on the grounds, masks in place and wands drawn. There were about six of them in total, including the Malfoys and Snape. Six against seven. Those were okay odds. Of course, that was only if one would count Voldemort as one wizard. He was, naturally, a bit more lethal than that, but they decided not to consider this fact.

The air was still and silent as the two groups stared at each other.

Harry spoke, his eyes locked with the slitted, ruby orbs of Tom Riddle’s. “Well this is a change of pace.” His voice was mocking and Remus turned to him. What was he talking about?

Voldemort seemed to understand the comment, though, and with a snarl of strong detest, he cried “Crucio!” Harry dodged it, but just barely, and the battle began.

“Impedimenta!” Harry cried, stopping a masked Death Eater in his tracks just as he was about to cast the Avada Kedavra on Hermione. Ron and Tonks were locked in battle with Narcissa and a short, plump Death Eater who had removed his mask to reveal a puffy face with tiny, black eyes.

Remus and Snape were letting out on each other, constantly shouting angry insults at one another, mostly about their school years together.

Moody had come to Hermione’s defense and had sent a severing charm at one Death Eater. It hit the wizard’s wrist and his wand fell with a thump to the ground, along with his entire hand.

Harry blocked out the Death Eater’s scream of shock and pain and moved just as Voldemort sent another Cruciatus at him. It hit the side of his arm and it began to bleed. Baring his teeth, he shouted, “Sectumsempra!”

Voldemort sliced his arm through the air and blocked it with a silent shield spell, causing the air to momentarily light up brightly, a shocking change to the evening haze. His arm swung back down in the recoil and he flung Harry backwards into the ground.

Harry cried out at the impact, but ignored the pain in his back and sat up, casting a disarming jinx and a stunning spell in the same breath. They knocked Tom back a bit, but had no other effect other than to aggravate him further. “Crucio!”

Harry writhed on the grass, his strangled screams cutting through the sky.  
”Harry!” Ron shouted, his still blonde hair spinning around his face as he threw a curse at Voldemort. It distracted the man enough for him to drop the curse and Harry struggled to his feet, his eyes watering.

Harry was livid. “SECTUMSEMPRA!” he roared, hitting Voldemort fully in the left side of his chest. The wizard let out a shout of pain as his robes and skin split open and blood as red as his eyes began to pour down his side. His eyes shot to Harry’s and Harry faltered, remembering the eyes of Tom Riddle the previous night. The night when he had kissed him.

Voldemort was panting heavily from the loss of blood and a Death Eater had rushed over to him. He shoved them away and straightened his back, his eyes never leaving Harry’s.

There was a flash of green light and a horrified scream and Harry felt all time crash to a stop as Hermione shouted, “Tonks! No!”

His head turned slowly, everything moving at half speed and all sounds of battle drained from his ears as he saw Tonks, still and silent, dead on the ground a few yards away. His heart pounded in agony and rage and hot tears began to spill from his eyes. Not Tonks! No, not her! Please!

His head was spinning and an overwhelming fury engulfed him. “CRUCIO!” he screamed, hitting the Death Eater who had killed her straight in the chest. The man flew back with an outcry of pain.

Suddenly, another voice cut through his anguish. It was high and cold. “That is enough!” Voldemort bellowed, taking a few swift strides towards his Death Eaters. Spells stopped at once. Even the Order members seemed to restrain themselves and they battled with the torment of their fallen friend. Hermione’s face was flooded with tears and Remus looked thunderstruck as he stared at Tonks’ lifeless body.

Harry’s mind faded away and it was replaced with an inexpressible malice. He began running forward, winding blowing past his ears. “You!” he yelled as he ran. Voldemort turned, his expression dangerously placid.

A Death Eater stepped forward, but the Dark Lord raised his hand and shook his head. He let Harry come to him and the boy fisted his hands into his robes, not touching his skin. Harry faltered when Voldemort didn’t change as he touched him. The change must only happen when he touched the man’s skin. That was good to know.

He dug his fists deeper into the man’s dark robes and pulled his face close, thrown when Tom didn’t fight back at all. “You,” he repeated, his emerald eyes miserable and fierce.

Riddle merely stared back at him, his mouth frowned slightly as he looked into the face of his enemy.

His enemy…

Their animosity was palpable as they stood there, Harry shaking as he felt unable to keep his grips on Voldemort’s robes any longer. “You…” he whispered, his voice heavy and leaded with sorrow. All energy was drained from him now. His pushed against the dark wizard, but the man didn’t budge, so it ended up only being leverage to move himself away.

Everyone around them looked on with a morbid fascination. Dark and Light alike shared in their confusion at the encounter. They knew that the interaction had been beyond their understanding, and thus, they had stood by and watched as Harry Potter grabbed the Dark Lord like any other man; and Voldemort had just stood there… uncaring.

Harry looked away, refusing to let his eyes rest on Tonks’ crumpled body. He felt numb. The horcruxes were long gone from his mind now. He knew Tom was still looking at him, but he ignored the stare. He didn’t want to see those eyes again, or what they contained. Forcing his legs to move, he nodded to Remus and Ron—who had finally changed back to his red-headed self—and together they walked to Tonks’ body, putting their wands away.

A few of the Death Eaters stirred, but Voldemort stilled them with an icy look and they stood back, watching as Harry and his companions ignored them and carried Tonks away in silence.

“My Lord,” Narcissa Malfoy ventured nervously, “Why do you let them go? We had them!” Voldemort broke out of his stony silence and he turned, ever so slowly, towards her. She shrank back at the look he bore. Within his countenance he held the utmost contempt and hatred. His wrath emanated from his very being as he opened his mouth to speak. “You dare question me?” he asked, his voice so quiet it could barely be heard above the breathing of the group; but it was clear.

Narcissa began to tremble and she fell to her knees, kissing them hems of his robes. “No, I do not question your greatness, milord!” she cried.

Tom stepped away from her and sighed, suddenly very tired. “Leave me,” he said, waving his hand lazily through the air. The Death Eaters left without hesitation, whirlpools of black smoke careening into the night as Lucius and Narcissa hurried into the manor, whispering nervously to each other about the whereabouts of their son.

Severus Snape stayed behind, however, and he approached the Dark Lord with caution.

“My Lord,” he said carefully, “Your wounds.”

Tom looked down at his chest. It was soaked through with his own blood and his robes were almost shredded by the shoulder. He had forgotten entirely about that. At least now he knew why he was suddenly so tired.

“Take me to my manor, Severus,” he said, looking out over the darkening hillside as the potions master nodded and grabbed his good arm. After a moment’s worth of thought, they apparated away from Malfoy manor.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
 **  
Don’t hate me, Tonks-lovers!**

**This was the longest chapter yet, btw. 13 pages, I think. Not bad.**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr  
**


	12. Funeral

  
Author's notes: Harry/Voldemort *is tired of posting the summary for every chapter*  


* * *

SORRY guys. This chapter might have a weird text layout because I wasn't able to submit it to fanfiction.net first. For some reason ff.net won't let me submit, so I separated all th paragraphs by hand this time. Hope you like the chappie!

**Maraudersbanana (ff.net): OMG, I love your username.**

**A/N: OK, so half of you are like “SLASH GIVE SLASH OMGDROOLSPAZFOAMATMOUTH” and the rest of you are like “Keep them in character or I will stab you with spork!”. Needless to say, I’m a thoroughly afraid of all of you. I thought I should tell you that it’s going to take a lot of pent up emotions for the slash to come, and in order for emotions to boil up to that point, it takes time. I’m not letting go of my in-character promise. Even in the end, if they’ve changed, it will be progressive and transitional. I want this story to be smooth and believable from start to finish. Hopefully I’m doing that. Let me know how I’m doing, guys, and don’t stab me with sporks, please.**

**A/N 2: Also, someone asked me if I was going to stay canon with all the Deathly Hallows deaths. The answer is: no, I’m not. In fact, most of the DH deaths probably won’t happen, and there’ll be different ones instead! (omfg) Yes, there will be more deaths. Deal with it.**

**A/N: Just as an explanation of sorts for this chapter, I thought I’d let you know that the scenes, if that what you want to call them, are really short. This chapter kind of comes in snippets. Yay for snippets!**

**A/N 4: Lastly for my ridiculous amount of author notes, I suggest to you all that if you do not know the word I choose for the title of each chapter, LOOK IT UP. I choose these words carefully and they really describe what is coming in the chapter. Dictionary(dot)com is a perfect reference. You won’t really need to look up the chapter title this time. If you don’t know this word… I weep for you.**

**Now READ, my minions!**

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
 __  
Fear is like a tree  
That grows inside of me silently  
And you could be my blood  
And be a part of me secretly

_I've lost a war_  
I've lost a fight  
I've killed a man  
Wasted a life 

_Open my eyes, let me see you_  
And blow this blinding darkness away  
Open my eyes, let me find you  
Give me a sign 

_Hate is like a ghost_  
That lives inside of me, I plead  
For you to be my guide  
To be the feeder of my need 

_I've lost a war_  
I've lost a fight  
I've killed a man  
Wasted a life 

_Open my eyes, let me see you_  
And blow this blinding darkness away  
Open my eyes, let me find you  
Give me a sign 

_Take my word and fold me in_  
Free the soul behind the sin  
The endless dark will be the death of my senses  
Take my heart and hold it in  
Kill the beast under my skin  
The endless dark will be the death of my senses 

_Open my eyes, let me see you_  
And blow this blinding darkness away  
Open my eyes... 

_Open my eyes, let me see you_  
And blow this blinding darkness away  
Open my eyes...Give me a sign 

_-The Rasmus – Open My Eyes._  
  
FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
  
Featherlight Taction

Chapter 12- Funeral  


The days following Tonks’ death were quite and long. It was two days before Christmas, and no one was celebrating. They’d brought the auror’s body to the Burrow, where they would hold her funeral. Tonks’ parents had wanted her to be buried in the graveyard by their home, but the Order had decided that it wasn’t safe to do at the moment, so they opted to move her body later; when the war was over.

As such, a large group of friends, family, and aurors alike had gathered at the Burrow. Many of them had pitched tents outside; much like the ones that Harry and the Weasleys had used in the Quidditch World Cup. Others just didn’t sleep, and they patrolled around the gardens and hills as if expecting an attack at any moment. This infuriated Mrs. Weasley, of course.

“They’re acting as if a whole army of Death Eaters is going to come knocking on our door!” Molly cried out in exasperation as she served out some soup for those at the dinner table.

“They’re aurors, my dear,” Arthur Weasley replied in a sort of poor explanation.

Moody nodded and poured some whiskey into his glass. He had taken it upon himself to quickly empty the Weasleys’ entire supply of alcohol. “It gives them something to do,” he said as he took a swig. “They would be fighting right now, so being out here makes them feel uneasy.”

The room’s occupants nodded in silence. They couldn’t help but feel that Moody was talking about himself too. 

Harry stared down into his soup with blank eyes. Ever since Tonks’ death, he’d been overcome with the most apathetic guilt. Just a week ago she had taught him how to cast a stronger disillusionment charm. And now she was dead; all because she had tried to help him. Why was it that everyone who tried to help him would end up dead? His wrapped his fingers tightly around his spoon, ignoring the metal as it dug into his skin.

Hermione was no better off. She only stopped crying to breathe. Her companions had gotten used to her random outbreaks of sobbing and incomprehensible gibberish that accompanied it. Ron would merely hold her until the shivers ebbed and he would wipe her tears away. Any other time, this would have seemed so romantic; but at the time, it just became another thing fading into the mournful silence that was rarely broken.

Remus sat at the far end of the table, his gaze distant as he looked out the window into the yard. He had told her not to love him. He had told her that she was young… that her whole life was ahead of her. He had refused to love her…

Moody declined to think at all. He had drowned all his thoughts in firewhiskey, not allowing the thoughts of remorse or sadness enter his mind. She had been a fellow auror. The only one he had ever really liked…

Ginny had come home for Christmas just a few days before it had happened, and she stewed silently in her seat, furious that she had not been there. Maybe she could have helped. She could have done something! She bowed her head, her vibrant red hair falling down around her face. She knew that was silly to think; that she could have prevented the death. But still, she felt so useless.

Even the twins, Fred and George, were completely silent, their face devoid of their normal goofy grins. They hadn’t known Tonks well, but they’d always shared a good laugh with her. She had been so funny...

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and all of the heads at the table turned simultaneously towards him, knocked out of their thoughts. He swallowed in embarrassment at the sudden attention and turned to Harry. “I was wondering if I might speak with you,” he said. Harry looked over at Ron for a sort of confirmation. His friend simply nodded and went back to patting Hermione on the back.

Sighing, Harry rose from his chair, the wood scraping against the floor loudly. The others watched him as he followed Arthur out into the yard; and then they all turned back to their meals, none of them actually eating.

Mr. Weasley waited until they had walked far away from the house before he spoke, turning to Harry as they continued to wander.   
“Harry, I know what you’re feeling,” he said with a pained expression as Harry looked away.

‘No you don’t,’ Harry thought bitterly.

The elder wizard seemed to hear this thought. “Harry… I know that you feel guilty for what happened, but it wasn’t your fault.” His voice was firm. Harry rethought the situation for a moment. Maybe Mr. Weasley understood a little, but no one really understood. No one knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved. Everyone who was there for you… One by one, he was losing them all.

Arthur stopped and stilled Harry as well with a large hand on his shoulder. He waited until Harry faced him before he spoke again. “This is a war Harry. No, look at me. This is a war, and people are going to die. Tonks, Sirius, Dumbledore… they all knew that. They were all willing to make that sacrifice for the greater good.”

“What is the greater good?” Harry replied, feeling his face heat up. He hadn’t wanted to think about Sirius and Dumbledore. “Why is everyone dying?”

“Everyone isn’t dying!” Arthur responded, gesturing back towards the Burrow. “Look at all those people down there! They are all here to help you. And those people in the house! They all love you. Every last one. We aren’t dead.”

Harry bit his lip and fought against his tears. “I don’t want that to change…”

“It won’t change, Harry,” Arthur said strongly, placing his other hand on Harry’s free shoulder and looking into his eyes. “Even if we die, we will always be with you.”

“I don’t want you to die!” Harry cried, his eyes sparkling like crystals in his sadness. “I don’t want anyone else to die!”

“None of us do, but it’s going to happen. What’s important for you to remember is that not a single one of us regrets what we’ve done for you and for this war. Not Tonks, not Sirius, and certainly not Dumbledore. None of us would have changed a thing we’ve done. Through life and death and all the things that are out there, we are he for you, Harry. Always.”

Harry was unable to respond, his grief too overwhelming to allow him, so Mr. Weasley just pulled him close in a warm embrace. Harry clung to him, thanking the gods once more for the Weasleys; thanking Merlin for all his friends; and hoping with all his might that no more would die. He knew that he could not hope for such a miracle, but he felt like he should at least try to wish. He couldn’t stand another loved one dying. It would kill him. It really would.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

The day of the funeral was overcast and cold. Harry wrapped his cloak around him tightly and huddled closer to Ron and Hermione as they shivered into the dull afternoon.

They were surrounded by almost thirty other people. It was not a huge group by any means, but it still seemed crowded.  
Harry recognized the sound of a sobbing Hagrid and he stood, walking over to the overwrought half-giant. 

“’Arry!” Hagrid sniffled, opening his arms in a beckoning to the young wizard. Harry responded to the hug eagerly. He had really missed the giant. However, his lungs did not miss Hagrid as much as the man crushed the air out of them. He released Harry moments later and dabbed at his eyes with a towel-sized handkerchief. “Sorry, ‘Arry, I just can’t control myself,” Hagrid said as he sniffled again.

“It’s alright, Hagrid. It’s good to see you,” Harry replied, sitting next to his old friend. “As good as it can be, at least.” He looked up at where Mr. Weasley was preparing Tonks’ father to give a speech. The man looked horrible and his wife couldn’t stop sobbing. Harry felt another wave of guilt and pity.

“Oh, you don’t worry ‘bout me, ‘Arry,” Hagrid muttered through a swipe of his towel. “Ron and Hermione will be wantin’ ta sit with ya, I’m sure.” 

Harry nodded and patted Hagrid on the back before returning to his seat next to Ron. The redhead reached over and squeezed Harry’s arm with a weak smile. The funeral was starting. The murmurs of soft chatter slowly died down as Arthur walked up to the pew and put a sonorous charm to his throat.

“Thank you all for coming to pay your respects to Nymphadora Tonks, a wonderful auror and an even more extraordinary person,” he said, pausing when Tonks’ mother let out a loud howl and buried her head in her hands. “Tonks was killed in a battle with Death Eaters, as you all know, and we will not forget the valiant and brave way in which she gave her life for us.”

There was some soft clapping and Hermione began to bawl again, burying her head into Ron’s chest.

Mr. Tonks walked up and took Arthur’s place, clearing his throat and preparing for his speech.

Harry toned it out. He didn’t want to hear any more.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Harry and Ron were sitting out on the Burrow’s porch, watching silently as Hermione talked with Fleur Delacour and Ginny, both girls patting her sympathetically on the back.

Ron ran a tired hand through his hair and frowned. “Hermione’s right terrified now,” Ron said, staring at the brown-eyed girl as she smiled weakly back at him. He returned it just as half-heartedly. “She’s afraid, mate. And I am too.” His eyes met Harry’s.

“Me too…” Harry grumbled, picking up his pumpkin juice and swirling it around in the cup. Most of the guests had already left, not wanting to linger any more than they had to. Now only close friends and family remained, talking and crying to one another.

“I think we should leave tonight,” Ron said suddenly. 

Harry turned to him, surprised. “What?”

”Look, if we don’t get this,” Ron looked around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “If we don’t get this horcrux search over with fast, this will just keep happening. I talked to Hermione and she agrees. We should leave without the others knowing. If we don’t tell them where we are, then they can’t try to help us.”

Harry looked back at Hermione and then to Mister and Mrs. Weasley. Ron had a point. If they didn’t know where they were, there was no risk of them trying to help them and… and getting hurt in the process.

“’Mione says her folks have a cabin out in Woodberry,” Ron continued, catching Harry’s attention once more. “Out by the mountains in the North. They only use it in the summer, so they won’t be out there.”

Harry nodded grimly and touched his scar reflexively. “Then we’ll go there,” he said.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

“I’m sick of sitting around!” Bellatrix Lestrange cried maniacally. “We should be serving the Dark Lord!” Her eyes widened at the mention of her master, but she was cut off by another voice.

”Don’t’ be foolish, Bellatrix,” Snape growled. “We are serving him. Going out attacking Order members was not commanded. He would be displeased-“

“Displeased?!” Bellatrix repeated, her hair twisting through the air as she spun around to face him. “He would be displeased if we killed members of that blasted Order? I don’t think so. Won’t you come with me, ‘Cissy?” she breathed, turning to her sister.

Narcissa shook her head. “I won’t leave Draco. He is still very upset.”

“Upset because of those people!” Lestrange retorted. “They’re the ones that attacked him! And they’re all in one place now. Don’t you want revenge?”

Narcissa did not dare say that this was not the reason Draco was out of sorts. It would be foolish to point a finger not at Potter, but at the Dark Lord himself, who had mercilessly tortured her son when they had found him, blaming him for Potter’s intrusion in Malfoy manor.

“And Potter will be there!” Bellatrix continued, “I would so like to hurt that boy a little.” Her face twisted into a wicked grin.

This time is was Lucius who spoke, turning from the fire to his sister-in-law. “You hurt Potter and then the Dark Lord will truly be furious with you, Bellatrix. Killing him is a death sentence.”

Bellatrix let out a wild laugh. “I don’t intend on killing him! I just want the little brat to feel some pain. Maybe I’ll just drive him mad! If the Boy-Who-Lived goes crazy, it will be all that more easy for our master to kill him!”

Severus and Lucius exchanged worried looks. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Snape spat. “He wants to take care of the boy himself. He won’t go easy on you just because you got cabin-fever, you foolish woman!”

“Don’t call me foolish, Snape!” Bellatrix roared, pulling out her twisted wand and glaring at him. “The Dark Lord will be thrilled with me if I bring the boy to him! And that’s what I will do!” She was ginning madly now and they other could only stare at her in a disgusted kind of shock. 

“I know Crabbe, Nott, and Vincent will be happy to join me,” the deranged witch continued, gripping her wand tightly. “They want to see Potter defeated, unlike some of you.”  
Lucius scowled and was about to retort when Bellatrix winked at him and disappeared.

“That bitch!” Lucius roared. “What the hell does she think she’s doing?! Your sister is a fool!” Narcissa sighed. She already knew her sister was crazy, but the Dark Lord would not be happy with this little stunt. She worried, offhandedly, for her sibling’s safety. It was likely that Voldemort would kill her this time.

“We must inform the Dark Lord,” Severus said, nodding to Lucius, who returned the action. 

They swept out of the room quickly, grabbing their traveling cloaks and disapparating to Voldemort’s manor.

They knew that Voldemort was no more of a protector of Harry Potter than he was a happy man with pet bunnies; but they also knew that he had strictly ordered that no one lay a finger on the boy but him. 

At least informing Voldemort would save Harry for now.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

It was almost pitch black now, the lights from the Burrow the only source of light as the trio made their way quietly across the lawn. They hadn’t said goodbye to everyone, even though they desperately wanted to.

Their packs were hanging over their shoulders as they began their trek away fro the Burrow. They couldn’t apparate there or they would be heard.

Suddenly, though, they had to do a double-take at their surroundings as they heard the crack of an apparition. Their confusion was quickly answered, however, as they heard another crack, and another, and another. Had members of the Order come back? Had something happened?

The three whirled around and felt their guts sink to their feet.   
Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm and he whispered a guttural “No!” into the darkness. They dropped their packs to the ground and drew their wands. Having no place to hide on the open hilltop, Harry gave up the thought of running and shot a bright red stunning spell towards the nearest death eater. The spell lit up the air and there were streaks of light flying everywhere before the first stunned Death Eater even hit the ground.

The occupants of the house ran out into the yard and joined the fray. The sky was now almost as bright as day as spells flew every which way, and Harry felt his stomach churn as he heard the vicious laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange. Things couldn’t possibly get worse.

“Harry!” 

Harry jumped aside just as a jet of green light flew past him and hit a window, shattering the glass. Fred ran up to him and pulled him to his feet. “Watch yourself!” he said with a grin, shooting a body bind spell at who appeared to be the elder Goyle. The man fell to the ground with a fat thump.

Bellatrix noticed the duo and started towards them, an animal look in her eye. “Potter!” she shrieked over the cries of the fight. Harry and friend shot two stunning spells at her, which she flicked away with a cackle. Mr. Weasley saw the two boys, corned by Bellatrix and trying vainly to drive her away. 

He ran quickly to their aid, sending a hex at Bellatrix, who let out a shout of rage as her arm was cut. “You!” she snarled, turning to Arthur, who moved in front of Harry and his son. “Run!” he yelled back at them. They hesitated, but then darted away, running to aid their friends as they looked back at Mr. Weasley.

Bellatrix sent of a killing curse, but Arthur dodged it, surprisingly swift for his age. Without really thinking, Harry and Fred whirled back around and ran to help him. They couldn’t just leave him there. They sprinted across the yard and Arthur saw them out of the corner of his eye.

He took his eyes of Bellatrix for a moment and turned to yell at them. “NO! GO BACK!” he hollered, his eyes filled with a paternal protection. 

Harry saw the spell before Mr. Weasley did. Bellatrix had taken the opportunity of Arthur’s distraction to send it at him. Slowly, Mr. Weasley’s eyes widened in realization and he turned as the streak of light hit him full in the face, knocking him back into the air as Harry and Fred screamed. 

He hit the ground noiselessly and Bellatrix stared down at him with a malicious triumph.

Arthur Weasley was dead.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
**  
WAAAAAA!!!!!**

**Watch out Bellabitch! Voldie’s gonna be mad at you! And so is Harry, I have a feeling. Beware, the next chapter is going to be extremely unpredictable. Something big’s gonna happen! (le gasp!)**

**I’M SORRY, ARTHUR!!!!!**

**\--  
Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.  
The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr **


	13. Contrition

  
Author's notes: Voldemort/Harry, foos!  


* * *

**A/N: This song is one of my absolute favorites of all time, and it’s PERFECT for how Voldemort and Harry are feeling right now.**

**A/N 2: Also, I wasn’t exactly proud of the last chapter. It was kinda short but it was kind of a necessary transition into this next phase of this fanfic. This is where we really reach the emotionally stressed and action and event-packed part of Featherlight Taction. I hope you guys like it!**

**WARNING: This chapter contains torture.**

**And please keep reviewing! Your reviews keep me writing!  
**  
FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
 __  
And this is how it feels when I  
ignore the words you spoke to me  
And this is where I lose myself   
when I keep running away from you  
And this is who I am when,   
when I don't know myself anymore  
And this is what I choose when   
it's all left up to me

_Breathe your life into me_  
I can’t feel you  
I'm falling, falling faster  
Breathe your life into me  
I still need you  
I'm falling, falling  
Breathe into me  
Breathe into me 

_And this is how it looks when_  
I am standing on the edge  
And this is how I break apart   
when I finally hit the ground  
And this is how it hurts when I   
pretend I don't feel any pain  
And this is how I disappear   
when I throw myself away 

_Breathe your life into me_  
I can’t feel you  
I'm falling, falling faster  
Breathe your life into me  
I still need you  
I'm falling, falling  
Breathe into me 

_Breathe your life into me_  
I can feel you  
I'm falling, falling faster  
Breathe your life into me  
I still need you  
I'm falling, falling  
Breathe into me 

_Breathe your life into me_  
I'm falling, falling faster  
Breathe your life into me  
falling, falling, falling  
Breathe into me 

_-Red – Breath Into Me_  
  
FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
  
Featherlight Taction

Chapter 13- Contrition

  
Harry felt his heart plummet through a thousand worlds as he stared at Arthur Weasley’s fallen form. Fred’s pained sobs echoed in the back of his mind and all his memories of Mr. Weasley flooded his vision. All the things he did for him. All the advice he gave him. He had been like his father. 

Ginny had noticed now. Her scream jolted Harry from his stupor and the rage that filled him now was so pure and unadulterated that if drugged him to the point of insanity. His wand was clenched in his fist but disregarded as he sped towards a gloating Bellatrix Lestrange. By the time she noticed his maddened approach, it was too late. 

Harry tackled her to the ground, violently gripping her neck and squeezing as tightly as he could.

Even through her choking coughs and strangled movements, the demented witch managed a jagged smile. Do it, she was saying, Go ahead.

He shoved his thumbs into her throat. She was clawing at his arms now, her wand forgotten on the ground. The world faded around him and he knew nothing but her dilating pupils and weak struggles for freedom. The malice he felt overwhelmed him and he almost feared himself. 

What am I doing?

Her eyes twitched to the left and Harry jerked his head to see what her gaze had caught. Goyle flung a disarming spell straight into his face and he flew off of Bellatrix and into the wall of the Burrow. Lestrange got to her feet, grabbing her wand and coughing, all the while smiling at Harry.

He shuddered in revulsion under her stare. His forehead throbbed from where Goyle’s spell had hit him. His wand had been flung across the yard, leaving him helpless and unprotected. He glanced over at Ron and Hermione. One of Ron’s eyes was swollen shut and he was trying desperately to defend Hermione, who looked like she had a broken arm.

Remus and George were unconscious on the ground and Molly, Fleur, and Moody were protecting their unmoving forms as four masked Death Eaters tried to overpower them. 

Harry couldn’t see anyone else, but he could hear their shouts and see the light of their spells. 

He was trapped. 

Bellatrix and Goyle seemed to see this, and they began to smile, drawing nearer towards him. He began to panic and it was only at this point that he realized his glasses had fallen off somewhere, making the world slightly blurry. This only made him feel more vulnerable.

Suddenly, a jet of red light flew right past Goyle’s lunkish head and Harry saw an eerily irate Fred Weasley, coming towards them. “Get up, Harry!” he yelled. “Run!”

Harry’s vision flashed back to Mr. Weasley saying the same thing and a paralyzing fear hit him.

“You’re the one who better run, Weasley!” Bellatrix screeched, raising her wand into the air.

“NO!” Harry bellowed, pushing himself of the ground and grabbing her arm to stop her. 

She turned to him in surprise and her expression quickly melted into satisfaction. “Time to go! I’ve got him!” she cried. The Death Eaters stopped fighting at once and began disappearing into the night with loud, repetitive cracks. Harry realized with horror what she meant, and he tried to yank his arm away just as her claw-like grasp fastened around his wrist and they disappeared, Ron and Hermione’s screams fading into the distance.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Tom Riddle was currently leafing through an ancient dark arts literature, his red eyes narrowed as he scanned the pages in the firelight of the library. His shoulder twitched slightly in memory of the pain of Harry’s Sectumsempra curse and he frowned.   
Severus had healed his wounds the night he had received them, leaving not even a scar in their wake, but he still felt the echo of the feel of his own shredded flesh. It was like the tears were forever embedded there, even if they were physically gone. How could he have been so careless?

Why had he let the boy go?

Narcissa’s question on the night of the battle at Malfoy manor had been true enough. Why had he let Harry leave? Was it a display of weakness to let his enemy escape? 

Harry had been at a vital moment of his agony when his companion had died. The Death Eaters had seen it as a perfect moment to crush the boy. Voldemort had seen it as possibly the most cowardly moment to strike. 

And there had been something else. 

Not guilt… but it was arrogant to deny that it was something akin to it. It had been in that moment when Harry had grabbed his robes. Voldemort had been stunned when he did not change, even though he had already guessed that it was and change of skin to skin contact. He couldn’t help but feel a wretched disappointment and understanding that twisted his stomach unpleasantly. 

Harry had been so close to him and yet so far away. At that moment, that Dark Lord had seen their separation and only become more confused at what he felt in regards to their never ending fight. In his separation from Harry, he felt separated from everything. When the boy had grabbed his robes and looked at him with those pained, angry eyes, Tom had lost all sense of who he was. He felt small and weak.

It had left him speechless and angry.

He tossed his book aside and rubbed his forehead.

“My Lord!” 

Was that Lucius Malfoy? Why was he here?

“My Lord!” Lucius yelled again as he and Severus ran through the halls of the underground manor. He knew that Voldemort would not be pleased with his shouting, but he considered it important enough to take the risk of punishment. They had to save Potter. He couldn’t say that, of course. The Dark Lord would not regard this as “saving” the teen. To him it would just be stabilizing a necessary factor. Nevertheless, they needed to find him; and they needed to find him quickly.

Tom Riddle appeared in the hall before them seconds later, and they skidded to a stop, bowing their heads and each mumbling a panting “Milord.”

“What is it, Lucius?” Voldemort hissed, looking severely annoyed and vaguely curious.

“I am terribly sorry to announce myself like this,” Lucius said, straightening.

“Well you best have a good reason,” Tom replied harshly, looking at Severus. 

The potions master stepped forward. “We have news that is of a most urgent matter, my Lord,” he said, his voice deep and rasping. “It’s Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Voldemort scowled. This was bound to be unpleasant. 

“She has voiced the desire to attack a group of Order of the Phoenix members,” Snape continued, pausing and taking a deep breath before finishing his sentence. “And Harry Potter.”

Riddle’s eyes snapped to Severus’ and his scowl deepened by the second. “She did what?” he whispered dangerously. 

“She says she wishes to capture and torture him, my Lord,” Lucius said, trying as best as he could to keep his face devoid of emotion. “She left thirty minutes ago.”

“Why did you not come to me sooner?” Voldemort barked.

“We tried to go after her initially, but she eluded us. She said that she would first retrieve other Death Eaters, my Lord. And it also took us a while to find you.”

The Dark Lord drew his wand and Lucius flinched, preparing himself for repercussion. Instead, Voldemort began walking briskly down the hall, beckoning for the two to follow him. “Where is she?” he growled, summoning his outer robes and stopping to put them on. 

“There is a group of Order members with Harry Potter at the Weasley residence. It was for the funeral of the woman who died-“  
”I see,” Tom said sharply, cutting the other wizard off. Without another word, he wrenched Lucius’ left arm from his side and jabbed the man’s dark mark with his wand roughly. “Bellatrix Lestrange,” he said darkly.

The dark mark began to writher on Lucius’ pale skin and an ethereal image floated up before them. Harry Potter was currently on top of Bellatrix, pinning her to the ground and his hand at her throat. They watched on in a morbid astonishment as he dug his fingers into her windpipe, his expression malicious and vengeful. The boy was hit in the face with a spell, suddenly, and he flew backwards. In mere moment, he had lunged back at Lestrange and the woman had grinned wickedly. They disappeared moments later and a vision of a dilapidated mansion appeared before them. Voldemort had seen enough.

He released the spell and frowned deeply. She had gone to her home, then. Brilliant.

“The Lestrange estate,” Lucius muttered. “The anti-apparition ward is a mile long.”

Voldemort began walking towards the entrance hall of the manor to disapparate. The tracker on the dark marks was not a present time locater, but one that reflected the memory of his Death Eaters. That meant that Bellatrix had already taken Potter ten minutes ago. He felt a cold desperation hit him and he faltered in his thoughts.  
Why did he fear what she would do to the boy? Why was he so furious in his urgency to get there?

He shook his head. Because the Potter was HIS to kill! No one else’s! It was as simple as that. Bellatrix’s ridiculous impudence would not go unpunished. She would pay for this discrepancy.  
If the anti-apparition ward at her manor was a mile long, he would need to get their quickly. Even the Dark Lord himself could not surpass such wards without a great deal of time on his hands.

“My Lord, we will come with you,” Severus said as he and Lucius struggled to keep up with Voldemort’s hurried pace. 

”No,” Tom snapped, “I will deal with this myself.”

The authoritarian look in his deep red eyes left no room for question, and Severus and Lucius bowed back with equal hesitance as the Dark Lord disapparated from the manor.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Bellatrix’s vice-like grip on Harry’s arm didn’t cease when they arrived in the middle of a field a ways from a large, black mansion. He looked around in a panic. No Death Eaters had followed. Why was it that these people always wanted to torture him alone?

In no time, she had drug him into the ominous building, grabbing a fistful of his hair and throwing him against the wall, where his head hit with a crack and he fell to the floor on his hands and knees.   
Bellatrix laughed. “Poor Potty!” she crowed, sounding strangely like Peeves as she watched him with pleasure while he held his head in pain and struggled not to break down from his fear. She was going to kill him. She was going to kill him…

His hands traveled back to his pant pockets lamely. 

“Ohh…” the older witch purred. “You don’t have your wand, do you? Crucio!”

The curse hit Harry in the back and he let out a scream of agony, falling on his face and twisting around on the floor as she mercilessly pushed ten worlds of pain into his body. She lifted the curse with a shrill giggle and watched him with a delighted amusement as he tried to crawl away, spitting up some blood. Apparently he had bitten his lip. 

“That won’t work, precious!” she cooed, walking up to him and shoving the heel of her shoe into his lower back. Harry let out another cry of pain and rolled over, batting her foot away.   
Bellatrix’s grin quickly flashed to a scowl and she flicked her wand with another shout of “Crucio!”

Harry was shaking and screaming, his pain too much for him to comprehend now. His vision was turning black and he felt himself wishing for death. Please let me die! Please! He begged silently to the heavens through his cries of anguish. 

She didn’t lift the curse for minutes, years, eternity… Harry was on the brink of consciousness, his voice too hoarse to scream anymore as his emerald eyes began to fade. Finally, she lifted it and her poisonous laughter filled the dark hall again.

“Poor, pathetic Potter,” she spat. “You’re more fun than the Longbottoms, and I really enjoyed that one.”

“Fu…” Harry couldn’t force the speech from his mouth as he breathed heavily, his eyes fluttering as he tried to keep awake. 

“What’s that?” she asked, mocking, as she approached him and leaned over his seemingly broken form on the floor. She prodded his chest with her wand. 

“Fu…” Harry’s eyes snapped open and he glared venomously into her dark eyes. “Fuck you.” 

Her eyes went wild with rage and she smirked, dragging her wand slowly down his chest and stomach. Harry let out a yelp of shock and groaned in pain as the skin of his chest split open and his blood seeped into his blue shirt, staining it with a dark, crimson river.  
“Watch your tongue, little boy,” she hissed, “Or I might just silence it like that pitiful Weasley.”

Harry’s brain clicked on and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it with a wail of impassioned anger. She howled in pain as her wrist broke and he wrenched her wand from her hand. “You!” she spat, jumping at him fiercely. 

“AVADA KEDAVRA!” Harry screamed with uncontrolled ire, feeling nothing but sickened rage as the hall filled with green and Bellatrix let out her last futile scream of evil before she fell to the floor, her eyes open and glassy.

Harry inexplicably became even more frightened and he crawled furiously away from the corpse, stopping at the end of the hall and huddling in the corner, staring at the dead woman with wide eyes as he cradled his legs. He began to rock back and forth, not bothering to look up when the front door slammed open and someone came inside. He was long gone now. His mind was empty. He had just killed someone…

Voldemort pushed the door to the mansion open with an excessive display of violence, peering into the main hall of the dank place. A few feet away a body was crumpled on the floor. Upon closer inspection he found it to be Bellatrix, and she was dead.

Immediately, his head shot up and he looked up and down the hall, freezing when his eyes caught a small figure in the shadows. He ventured near, slowly.

Harry’s eyes were like disks, unblinking and unseeing. His eyes didn’t leave Bellatrix’s body as he rocked back and forth. The Dark Lord stared at the wand clutched in the teen’s hand and knew what must have happened. He looked at Harry saw blood on his arms and dripping down to the floor. The boy was hurt; badly so.

Without really knowing why he was doing so, Voldemort approached the traumatized wizard and knelt down on his knees, surveying the only other live on in the house like he was some sort of alien. 

He’d never thought Harry capable of killing. Apparently, neither had Harry.

“Harry.” Tom’s voice was not gentle, but it was quiet. It broke through the silence like shattering glass. 

Harry’s head twitched and he let out a short whimper.

Voldemort’s pale hand moved of its own accord, reaching slowly towards the trembling wizard. Without warning, Harry’s hand shot out and grabbed it, and Tom felt the sweeping change overtake him. For a minute, he simply stared at his and Harry’s hands. Potter’s fingers were latched tightly around his own limp ones, squeezing them with a fierce intensity. Lethargically, Harry’s head began to turn, stopping once his own wide eyes had met Riddle’s. The boy’s mouth was hanging open slightly, as if he had just screamed, and Voldemort was mesmerized by his empty expression.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Harry’s face contorted into such a deep misery and pain that the Dark Lord was temporarily taken aback. Harry’s eyes began to spill over with tears and he sobbed loudly, leaping forward and latching onto Tom roughly, his hands digging vehemently into Voldemort’s robes and the bare skin of his left arm. 

Tom was so shocked that he found himself unable to move as Harry sobbed and shuddered into his chest, clinging to him as if he would die otherwise. Riddle’s arms hung in midair, as confused as their owner as the Boy Who Lived clutched him and soaked his robes through with tears. Soon enough, he realized that not only tears were soaking him, but blood, and he grabbed Harry’s shoulder and pushed the boy back.

Harry refused to let go of Voldemort’s arm and stared at the point where their skin made contact. Tom ignored the belligerence and looked down at the young wizard’s chest. It was drenched in blood, a huge gash etching its way down the soft flesh. 

Riddle reached forward and touched the wound softly. Harry jerked back, his eyes round. Tom grabbed the teen’s wrist just as he retracted, keeping the transformation intact. He stared purposefully into Harry’s sage orbs, and slowly, Harry relaxed and looked away.   
Voldemort drew his wand, not missing the flinch on Harry’s face. Slowly, he ran it just above the gash, murmuring an elaborate incantation. Harry’s skin began to seal up and he gasped in pain as the wound closed itself. The gasp turned to a sigh when the healing was finished, and Harry let out a deep breath of relief when his pain faded away.

Hi relief was short-lived. With the loss of pain came the gain of senses, and, without pulling away, Harry turned to face the dark haired wizard beside him. 

He did not need to ask the question that etched itself so deeply in his countenance. Voldemort looked away, becoming painfully aware once more of where he held Harry’s wrist. He knew he should let go, but as soon as he did, Harry would once more regard him with that hateful disgust.

For some reason, he didn’t want to see Harry look at him that way. Harry’s hand twitched a little in Tom’s grip and the older man turned back to face him. The boy’s messy hair was in a tangle around his face, shielding his scar from view. His eyes were rich and deep with thought and contemplation as he looked at Tom, almost inspecting the man. It was like he was looking for some kind of proof that this was really the Dark Lord in front of him and not some imposter. 

Tom felt the strong need to prove himself, but what he did was most likely the opposite of what would assure Harry that he was Lord Voldemort. He tugged Harry’s arm and pulled him forward, crushing his lips down on the shocked teen’s with a dark intensity.   
Harry’s eyes slid close in both weakness and the overwhelming sensation of Tom’s sheer determination that poured into the kiss. He stayed limp as Voldemort ravaged his lips for the second time in a month. 

But something was different about this time, Harry noticed. This time it wasn’t violent and bruising, but forceful and passionate. His arm reached up and grabbed the Dark Lord’s tightly; not quite an embrace, but close enough to one for the circumstances. 

Still, he didn’t kiss back. He just allowed Tom to continue as he held onto the older man for balance.

Voldemort’s mind was reeling, he’d never felt lips like Harry’s and though he was thoroughly disgusted with himself, he never wanted to let go. He just… couldn’t. His tongue dove into Harry’s mouth; once, twice, and a third time, and he finally pulled away, taking Harry’s lower lip with him before letting it go with a soft snap.  
Harry’s eyes were shut tightly and Tom simply stared at them until they opened slowly and looked up at him. This time, the question held within the emerald depths was stronger.

Why?

Voldemort sighed and looked at Harry for one last second before he shoved the boy backwards into the wall, standing as his reptilian self. It took a few moments for Harry’s face to fall back into its normal expression.

Voldemort looked at the front door, refusing to look at the teen any longer. He knew full well that Harry’s expression didn’t really hold its usual malice, and that’s precisely why he didn’t want to see it anymore. The hate needed to be there. It was supposed to be, damn it. 

Voldemort was suppose to hate Harry and Harry was suppose to hate him. It was the way of things. The taste of Harry lingered in his mouth and he clenched a pale fist tightly.

“Go now or I will kill you,” the Dark Lord said shortly, not looking at the wizard beside him. 

Harry stared at the snake-like man for another moment, not believing the threat for a second. Still, after one last look--his retinas still burning with the image of Tom Riddle--he limped silently out of the mansion, leaving Voldemort behind and walking off into the night.

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“Harry! Oh my god!”

Harry collapsed onto the lawn of the Burrow. He had just apparated there with the last of his energy. He was completely spent now.

Hermione, the twins, and Ron all ran up to him. Hermione’s arm was in a splint and she used her uninjured hand to roll her exhausted friend onto his back. She gasped when she saw his ripped, blood soaked shirt and inspected his skin.

”I’m fine,” he breathed, trying to get up.

She looked at him worriedly and the twins knelt down and hooked their arms under his, lifting him up gently and helping him towards the house.

“How did you escape?” Ron asked as he followed them to the house. “Are you okay?”

Harry didn’t answer. Instead, he stared blankly at the grass where Mr. Weasley’s body had laid. It wasn’t there anymore. They must have moved it. How long had he been gone?

“How did you escape from Bellatrix, Harry?” Hermione repeated Ron’s question, her eyes lit with worry.

“I killed her,” Harry replied blandly, his eyes half-lidded. The twins stopped in their tracks for a moment, causing Harry to stumble. They quickly picked up their pace again and helped Harry through the doorway. Suddenly he remembered himself and he pulled away, turning to the three Weasleys. “Guys… I’m so sorry,” he said throatily. Their faces flushed in sadness and they gave him matching, weak smiles. 

Wordlessly, Ron wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders in a sort of hug while Hermione took his hand on his other side. 

Together, the five walked into the sitting room where Remus and Molly stood quickly, rushing forward to them, their faces stained with misery and tears.

Harry looked at them all quietly as his vision began to blur more strongly. He still didn’t have his glasses. Funny how he could care less. 

He blinked, but when his eyes reopened his vision was blackened. He shook his head weakly, the voices of those around him lost as he succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness.

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 **  
Wow! Two chapters in one day! Fancy that!**

**I hope this chappie made up for chapter 12. I’m really starting to grow attached to this story. Gosh…**

**And I’m sorry for all the drama and angst, but it’s necessary. This is a war slash romance tragic kind thing, after all.**

**REVIEW OR PERISH!!!**

**\--  
Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.  
The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr   
**  
****


	14. Avoidance

**Ckret2: I’m gonna quote this review so y’all know what I’m answering.**

**“By the way, I'm just wondering, how much of this do you have planned out?**

**Rough outline, know every detail, or you're making it up on your way from**

**point A to point B? I'm not trying to worm any spoilers out of you or anything**

**(I hate spoilers, hee), I'm just curious about your creation process,**

**especially since you're putting out chapters so quickly.”**

**To answer that question:**

**A lot of people have asked me this, especially when I was writing ‘A Potion’ way back when. When I write fics, I immediately start out in the fic knowing exactly how I want it to end and the major plot points in between. However, I don’t fill in the details. I hate planning out things more than is necessary or the plot will end up becoming bland and won’t have any flow to it. So, every major event is already decided, but the stuff that happens in between them and even the way they happen are not planned until the moment I write them.**

**I don’t write a chapter until I feel inspiration for it. For some reason, I’ve just been hit with a crapload of inspiration for this fic, apparently, so that’s why I’ve been uploading chapters so quickly.**

**I always love hearing what people want to see in the fic, and if it fits with the main plot, I’ll often try to sate those desires, so you can always feel free to make suggestions. Maybe your suggestion will inspire the next chapter!**

**I have a strange feeling that this fic is going to be really frickin long compared to my normal writing style. I mean, this already has more words than my longest complete fic of 13 chapters!**

**A/N: By the by, guys, I’d like to correct an impression that come of you are getting. This is NOT going to be a Dark!Harry story. He might have some dark contemplations and do some dark things, but this isn’t an anti-boywholived story. Yes, I’ve had him use some unforgivables in dire situations, but you’ll see that they affect him and wear on him terribly, and he is, through all the angst and darkness, the hero.  
**  
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 __  
Wake up, medicate, again  
Ever after is a friend  
But you and I we get so high  
We never quite came down  
Ever after again

_What could be more beautiful than you_  
and I falling from grace  
All the things we'll never know  
so beautiful they're slipping away 

_Light my past on fire_  
Spell it right in black and white  
A coward's here for hire 

_What could be more beautiful than you_  
and I falling from grace  
All the things we'll never know  
so beautiful they're slipping away 

_It's beautiful, slipping away_

_It's time to pack up and vacate_  
I'm so fed up of closing up  
And running from myself 

_What could be more beautiful than you_  
and I falling from grace  
All the things we'll never know  
so beautiful they're slipping away 

_Wake up, medicate, again  
'Cause ever after is my friend_

_-Thornley - Beautiful  
_  
FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
  
Featherlight Taction

Chapter- Avoidance  
  
It was almost two weeks before Harry, Ron, and Hermione found it in themselves to leave the Burrow. They’d had two funerals in two weeks and the forced happiness that had once been there was no longer present. All that was left was a sober tenderness and understanding empathy that drifted in and out of the windows and onto the snow-covered hills.

Moody had been unable to stand the sadness, so he’d left as soon as Arthur’s funeral was finished, occupying himself with unofficially helping out Aurors in Death Eater captures. Remus had forced himself to stay for Harry’s sake, but his deathly silence had been more of a hindrance than a help to the disoriented teen.

Harry and his two companions had spent most of their time in Ron’s room, coming down only to eat and assure the others that they were still alive. They tried as best they could to plan on their next move without remembering the deaths that had so closely preceded their journey. They were to go to Hermione’s parents’ cabin out in the mountains. From there they could figure out how to get back into the Malfoy manor and find any horcruxes that might be hidden there.

They had decided also, to plan it more thoroughly this time, and not to ask for help.

“Tonight’s the night,” Harry said softly, looking out of the window beside his bed. Ron nodded and Hermione sighed.

“I’ve almost finished preparations,” Hermione stated, gesturing towards Harry’s rucksack. “I’ve shrunk all of our potions and books and other supplies in there. It should last us for quite a while.”

“What would we do without you, ‘Mione?” Ron inquired fondly, staring up at the ceiling of his room.

The young witch blushed. “Don’t be silly, Ronald. It’s all quite simple.”

Ron snorted. “To you, maybe.”

This is how the conversations had been as of late. Ever since Harry had returned from his capture by the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, the trio had restricted their conversation to planning and banter; nothing more. Harry lamented the loss of deeper conversation, but he knew if he tried to instigate any sort of discussion, he would be immediately drilled with thousands of questions.

Besides, what was he supposed to tell them? How could he tell them that… that he had used the Avada Kedavra. That he had killed someone… How could he tell them that?

He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. Compared to the other tidbit of information, his killing Bellatrix seemed so rudimentary and unimportant. Twice now, Voldemort had kissed him. Both times Harry had stood by and done nothing. He had let him.

That would be even harder to tell Ron and Hermione than the fact that he had killed someone. He scoffed internally. The realization that he thought more on the kiss than the fact that a death had come by his own hands hit him like a slug in the gut.

Was he really that horrible of a person? Sure, Bellatrix more than had it coming, but still… she was still human. Why was his contact with Tom Riddle weighing so much more heavily on his mind? To think about it too strongly would be to admit that it had affected him. It would admit that he had reacted with more than revulsion.

If he thought about it too strongly, he would realize that he was reliving the moment in the mansion over and over again in his dreams. That was a realization he didn’t want to come to. This whole thing was something he didn’t understand, and he didn’t want to understand. If he admitted that, in a way, he hadn’t been entirely repulsed by Voldemort’s actions, than what did that mean? Did that make him a terrible person? Did that make him disgusting? Did that mean…

Harry stood suddenly, forcing down his thoughts with a fierce mentality. “We’ve only got a few more hours,” he stated, not looking at his friends.

He heard them shift as they nodded and he tried to settle the turmoil of emotions within his chest.

He was sick of thinking. It only led to pain.

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Draco sat by the lakeside of his manor, staring over the still water in silence. His grey eyes blinked slowly, and the reflections of the green water shone in them and he lost himself in his thoughts. His hand gripped his left forearm tightly and his small mouth was twisted into somewhat of a weak frown.

His left eye was still a bit black and the cuts on his face and chest were still healing. The Dark Lord had been furious that day when Harry Potter had broken into the manor. He had blamed the young Malfoy, and as such, he had tortured him for hours on end. He hadn’t even been merciful enough to use Crucio. No, Voldemort had felt a need for severing charms and slow, agonizing torments.

The strange things was, though, that once the monster had finished his anguished inflictions and Draco’s mother sobbed in the corner of the room as his father held her and watched on miserably, he had healed most of Draco’s wounds. As the pale blonde had lain there, shivering and sputtering up blood, the reptilian Lord had walked over to him slowly and raised his wand. Draco cringed, fearing more retaliation, but instead of cruel pain, he felt the cool soothing of healing charms as they sew him back together. No longer were his wounds gushing vengefully, threatening his death. They were just slight lacerations now, and as Draco sat out on the grass a few weeks later, he found that they didn’t hurt anymore.

The only thing that really hurt was the memory. But, mercifully, the memory of pain is never as bad as the moment you feel it. At least… that was how it worked for physical pain. Other pains were a different story.

Draco let himself fall back into the grass with a thump and he thought back to the day Severus Snape had come to visit them a while back.

“I’m here to talk about something regarding the lion,” the man had said.

Lucius had immediately put a silencing charm on the room afterwards, but Draco didn’t need to hear any more. He wasn’t stupid and it was easy for him to make the connection. Lion… Gryffindor… Potter.

He stared into the slowly moving clouds and sighed. He hadn’t seen Potter in almost a year now. The last he remembered was fighting with him at school about… something. He couldn’t remember what. Merlin, their fights had been so ridiculous. He smiled, not fondly, but reminiscently, and he thought back to the numerous squabbles he and Harry had gotten into over the years.

They were both so proud that they were bound to fight. It was only natural for the two competitive spirits to clash with one another, but through all the heated insults and assurances of hate, Draco didn’t really hate Potter.

No, he didn’t like him either, not in the least; but he did respect him, somewhat. And he also silently relied on the other teen. Into the darkness of lonely nights and frightening times when he faced the Dark Lord himself, Draco hoped with the little strength that remained within him that Harry Potter would win this war and defeat Voldemort once and for all.

It was a hope that echoed through everyone these days, dark and light alike. And thought some would not admit this wish, it was still there being considered, along with its formidable and unforgettable question.

What would it be like to no longer live in fear?

And… can Harry Potter truly be the one to bring upon the world that freedom?

If Potter really was the one to do that; if what the whispered secrets and rumors said were true… then Draco wanted to make sure that Potter succeeded. He knew that now, with the Dark Lord’s clutches so firmly upon him, he could do very little to aid the boy. Though Draco did not want to admit it, he was virtually powerless now; left to follow his father and mother as they shielded him as much as they could from the wrath of their master.

All he could at the moment was wait and play his part. All he could do now was stare at the clouds until an opportunity arose.

So that’s what he did. And for hours upon endless hours, Draco stared at the sky… hoping.

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Quietly, the trio crept out onto the yard of the Burrow. Night had fallen and they’d waited until the occupants of the house had fallen into a restless sleep.

Harry looked out over the hills and up at the starry sky before turning back to glance at the Weasleys’ house once more. His eyes met with ones that mirrored the moon. It was Remus.

The werewolf was eyeing him calmly, not the least bit surprised as a pensive sadness overtook his ragged features. A muggle cigarette was pinched between the fingers of his right hand, and he took a drag, his eyes never leaving Harry’s.

Ron and Hermione had noticed him too, and they stood behind Harry, bowing their heads in embarrassment for sneaking out.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Harry couldn’t think of anything else to say, so that was what came out of his mouth.

Remus didn’t respond, but he smiled softly, still looking at the trio with a despondent expression that contrasted with his smile harshly.

“I…we…” Harry trailed off and looked away, his eyes finding the cursed spot where Arthur Weasley had fallen. His heart jerked in his chest and he felt immeasurably guilty again.

“I know,” Remus said, shocking Harry from his guilt. He’d almost expected the man not to speak. Lupin rose from his chair and put out the cigarette on a plate. One hand in his sweater pocket, he walked over to Harry and his friends, smiling, in turn, at each one of them before resting his gaze on the miserable, dark-haired one in the middle.

His eyes turned towards the skies for a minute, and if looking for all the friends he had lost, and then he reached out and pulled Harry into a hug. Leaning down, he whispered into the messy locks, “Be safe.”

Harry returned the hug, burying his head into the older man’s chest for a second before pulling away and forcing his heartbeat to slow. “Goodbye,” he choked out quiescently, his eyes closed.

“We’ll meet again, I promise,” Remus replied, warmth shining through his eyes.

Harry smiled, in earnest, and looked at his old teacher and friend for a deep breath before the three of them waved and turned away and linked arms to disapparate.

They appeared where Hermione had told them they would. It was a beautiful forest, with tall, lean trees and fanning red ferns and whispers of fog. To their right was a large stone house, windows dark and chimney empty of smoke.

“This is it,” Hermione said, trying to force a happy smile. The two boys smiled back and grabbed either one of her hands.

“We’ll be fine,” Harry said, looking back at the cabin.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed, doing the same.

“Yeah,” Hermione nodded, her hands clasping tightly around her companions’ hands. “I know.”

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Lucius Malfoy watched his son from the window of the house kitchen. The boy was sitting by the lake, staring up into the heavens. Lucius wished to join him, momentarily, but he knew that he would have to save that for another day—one far from this one.

He looked down at his untouched firewhiskey and shook his head, picking up the glass and pouring it back into the bottle. He needed to have all of his senses about him today. He was to be making a trip to the Ministry and speak to his contacts. There was much to be planned.

Severus was currently searching for his Order of the Phoenix ties, so he would be out of contact for a few days. Hopefully the Dark Lord would not notice the short absence. Severus had likely come up with a good excuse. He always did.

Lucius ran a slim finger along the bottom of his glass, gathering up the spare whiskey. Placing the finger to his lips, his licked of the small bit of alcohol and savored the taste. It wasn’t one he particularly liked, but it reminded him of the calmness that was often associated with the drink. He considered having a drink again, but he quickly shook it off.

He had a rebellion to ensue. Now was not the time for whiskey.

Now was the time for revolution.

Save the whiskey for later.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
 __  
They were a pile of flesh and clothes now. Tossing and turning over the floor, their mouths ravaged one another’s as they drank each other like wine.

_Harry let out a gasp as Tom slid his fingers up the boy’s chest. He slid his hands through the older man’s hair, twisting them into his dark locks and opening half-lidded emerald eyes._

_Tom felt every inch of Harry’s chest with his lips, savoring the feel of the soft flesh against his own as the young wizard writhed against him._

_“Harry…” he moaned.  
_  
\--

Tom Riddle forced his red eyes open and stared at the stone ceiling above him, his thin hands gripping his sheets tightly and sweat traveling down his snake-like face. He let out a low, frustrated groan and sat up, flicking his hands so the torches on the walls would ignite.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he pulled his robes from the side table and threw them on. He’d been having dreams like these ever since the night at the Lestrange estate. He cursed himself both aloud and mentally for the slipup. How could he have lost control like that?!

He plastered a dark scowl onto his face, his vertically slit eyes narrowing as he swept out of his quarters. To have kissed Harry once was ridiculous enough, but twice? He had gone too far; and he had enjoyed it far too much.

He had to come to terms with the fact that yes, he held a certain attraction towards Potter. Why? He did not know. Never before would he have even considered such a thing. It was asinine!

But now it wasn’t so preposterous as it should be. Perhaps the attraction had arisen from that day in the courtyard. No… it had been after that. When, he could not place his finger on it… but it had begun same as the intrigue of being able to feel his own flesh. When Harry had given that to him, however unwillingly he had done so, something had awoken underneath the jade flesh that held the Dark Lord where he was.

That something was a deep longing and passion that he had put away in the shadows long ago. It was an emotion that he did not need nor desire, and it infuriated him that he was succumbing to it every time the boy was near now.

How weak must he be to lose his senses as he did! It was pathetic! He whirled around and slammed his fist into the stone wall. His skin ripped under the force, but this only angered him more, and he let his fist stay there as he rest his forehead against the unforgiving, cold stone. His teeth were bared at the floor and his breath came in short, deep heaves.

“Potter,” he growled.  
 _  
What is this spell you have put me under?_

That was what he had asked the first time he had kissed him. It was true. He was under some sort of spell. Voldemort was no longer himself, and he knew it. How had one boy so easily resurfaced the regret that the Dark Lord harbored for his actions? How is it that Harry could so quickly and unintentionally bring back the passion that Tom had once had? He wasn’t meant to have these feelings! He wasn’t meant to have any feelings!

Voldemort let his hand fall to his side. His knuckles were bleeding, but he ignored them as his forehead held him against the wall. “What…spell have you put me under?” he whispered throatily. “What have you done to me?”

“Master?” A hesitant voice.

The Dark Lord pushed himself from the wall and straightened, brushing off his robes before turning to the intruder on his thoughts. “Yes, Wormtail?”

Pettigrew half bowed and half groveled as he came forward. “I have been informed that Lestrange’s body was disposed of, as you ordered,” he said, sniveling, as usual. “And Snape,” he choked on the name, looking disgusted. “Has asked me to tell you that he had gotten a possible lead on “your situation” and will be gone for a few days.” At the sudden icy glare that surfaced on the Dark Lord’s eyes, Wormtail let out a little cry and shrunk back, thinking he had said something wrong.

“Good,” Voldemort said flatly, walking past the cowering man, who looked up in a mixture of surprise and relief. He spotted Voldemort’s bleeding knuckles.

“Master, your hand-”

“I can take care of it,” Tom dismissed him sharply, not looking back as he rounded the corner and set off towards his library.

If Severus had truly found a lead, then maybe he could soon get rid of this… affliction and no longer need to worry about it. That way he could focus on victory and power. That was what he truly needed to concentrate on: Success. That was the only thing that was important. Everything else he would ignore.

It was as simple as that.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
 __  
They were on the floor, their mouths battling with each other in a heated kiss. Harry reached up and ran his hands through the Riddle’s hair, gasping as the older wizard ran slim hands up his chest.

_Lips were skimming his abdomen, leaving burning trails in their wake. Harry moaned and twisted up against the body against him just as Tom groaned._

_“Harry…”_

\--

Harry woke up violently, shooting up in bed and panting furiously. His sheets were twisted around his legs so tightly it was as if he’d been recently mummified, and he mentally slapped himself when he realized that this time he had woken up too late. His boxers clung to his skin from the evidence of his dream.

His eyes shot to the window. He could barely see out into the forest. It was still dark. Thankfully there had been enough rooms in the house for the trio to sleep separately, so at least they hadn’t heard him. He could be grateful for that much.

It was only at this point that he noticed the burning throb of his scar. No… that wasn’t possible.  
 _  
Have you ever dreamt of a room with a fireplace?_

Had that dream not been his own? Had it been shared?

Harry shivered, the sweat trailing down his bare back catching the draft of the winter cold. This had only been the second dream like this that he’d had about Voldemort, but he felt like he’d had hundreds of them. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried desperately not to recall the burning kisses of Tom’s mouth against his skin.

His hands reached up and fisted into his hair, pulling at it desperately. Why? What the hell was happening to him?! So many questions raced through his mind that he felt overwhelmed and angry.

He disentangled himself from his sheets and threw himself off of the bed, tiptoeing over to the door and peering out of it to make sure he wasn’t spotted in such a state. Ron and Hermione’s doors were both closed. He sighed and rushed over to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him and turning on the faucet to the shower.

As he sat down on the toilet and waited for the room to fill up with steam, his mind drifted back, not to the dream, but to the look on Tom Riddle’s face that night two weeks ago. It had been so emotional and… passionate.

Was Voldemort even capable of such emotions?

And if he was, why had they surfaced because of Harry?

What was this tug in his chest; this dizziness in his mind? Harry clutched at his shoulders and shut his eyes tightly as the steam from the shower began to stint his breathing.

Finally, he stood and peeled of his shorts, tossing them aside and stepping into the shower. Maybe the hot water would wash it all away—all his fears and confusions and thoughts.

He let the water fall onto his face in torrents, washing down his skin and pushing off all the dirt and remnants of his dream; but it didn’t push away his thoughts. Nothing could.

And no matter how hard he tried, he could not remove the image of Lord Voldemort, staring down the hall and refusing to look at him, red eyes set with as much confusion as his own.

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
 **  
NYACK! –flies away-**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr  
**


	15. AUTHOR'S NOTE

  
Author's notes: harry/voldie. If you're at this point and you don't know that.....wtf?  


* * *

OK, ohmyFACKINGgawd, there are so many questions and theories being thrown about this fic that I have decided to do the same thing I did in A Potion and write a whole chappie answering the questions and clearing up some theories.

So it’s not really a chappie…. But it’s like an extended Authors Note, if you will.

So here we go.

 

**  
Are Harry and Voldieshorts going to have conversations in “the room with the fireplace”?  
**  
Well by then looks of it, right now they’re not very interested in conversation in there, if you catch my drift. Lol. But seriously, I’m considering that option. However, I should probably explain this room to you. When those two are in it, they aren’t really themselves, as you’re probably noticed. Voldemort is automatically “Tom” and neither of them have a real control over their actions. The trips into the room really are just dreams. It’s just a shared dream.  
 **  
Aw, poor Draco. Is he gonna play a big part in this story?  
**  
Indeed. As you might have guessed from Draco-poo’s little contemplation in the last chapter, he will be playing a rather substantial part later on in regards to the war.  
 **  
OMG are Voldie and Harry gunna run away togethers and have BEBEHS!?  
**  
…o.o Uh….. Well I can tell you one thing: there won’t be any babies.

As for running away together, I won’t tell you what happens, but I’ll post another question. Do you think Voldemort could ever be fully redeemed? Do you think that IF he and Harry were to love each other, that the love would be enough to make him a good man? And even if it did, could Harry possibly leave all of his friends behind for the man that killed his own parents?

And that’s not a ‘no’, by the way, but it’s not a ‘yes’ either.  
 **  
If Lucius and Severus are planning a “rebellion”, does that mean that all the Death Eaters are in on it?  
**  
Gods, no. In fact, Lucius and Severus are some of the only Death Eaters that are so fully disloyal to Voldemort on the point of going against him. Some don’t like Voldie, but they’re too scared or too apathetic to turn to the Light. Malfoy and Snape are like two good guys in a ring of baddies, if you want to see it that way.

And to further expound on the rebellion, the rebellion has already started. With Harry. Witches and Wizards everywhere are starting to get a little brave and they will be willing to fight if they get the right motivation. Severus and Lucius just want to provide that motivation.

Too bad they’ve got no clue about the little development between our main guys, neh?

Then again, this development might not be that big of a deal when it all comes down to it.

I’m just not telling.  
 **  
Will the actual Deathly Hallows be incorporated into the story? (the items, not the books)  
**  
Well in order for me to include the Deathly Hallows, I’d have to be ridiculously compliant with the seventh book, and I have no desire to do that whatsoever. As I said in chapter three, the only compliance I will allow for the last book will be the horcruxes, nothing else. So no, the deathly hallows have no part in this story. HOWEVER, a particular reviewer mentioned Harry having a talk with his mother to get a clearer view on the situation… let’s just say that if you read my character list on HPFandom, you’ll see Lily Potter in the list. ;)  
 **  
Oh noes! Will Harry be destroying more horcruxes? But what about Moldywart? ...and why do you keep calling Voldemort funny names in this authors note?  
**  
I’m sorry to tell you that, yes, Harry WILL be destroying more horcruxes. What happens when he does and how many he does I won’t say, but he will continue. His journey and task won’t stop just because of this newfound attraction. Harry isn’t that easy to sway from his course, no matter how much Severus Snape assures us that he does have that bad of ADD.

What about Tom? No matter what, the horcruxes are evil things. With them in existence, there will always be the proof of the fact that he shred his own soul apart. I care for the Tom of this story, but that’s only because of character development. What he did before this story in inexcusable, and it won’t just erase itself on its own. That’s all I’ll say for now.

As for the nicknames, those are more like endearments at this point. Haha  
 **  
Is Harry going to be really powerful? I know you said he won’t be dark, but can you at least make him all impressive?  
**  
Ok… now one of the points that some people have mentioned about my story is that I work really hard to remain really compliant with books 1 through 6 and I do my best to keep everyone in complete character. As such, it’s really quite impossible for me to make Harry anything more than skilled just from experience and his extra skills—thanks to Tom, lol—so no, Harry won’t have this big power boom. In the end, though, he won’t need to have one, because what he is now and what he is capable of just as a normal boy with a fierce determination will be enough in the end.  
 **  
Will Harry be casting more unforgivables?  
**  
Yes.  
 **  
Will Harry finally kiss Voldemort back? And will they be doing more than kissing?  
**  
If the answer to this question was no, then I wouldn’t be writing this fic. :P Just kidding, but yes, of course! There’s more than one reason this fic is on adultff.net. Let’s just say that much.  
 **  
Frankie (chapter 13): ...faint orgasm  
**  
This review disturbed me and amused me to no end. I just had to include it in my comments. I mean, Merlin, the review was so short and yet I’ll remember it forever.  
 **  
Will more good guys die? I mean, you already killed Tonks and Arthur. Will there be more?  
**  
Yes. It’s a war, and next time I’m going to be hitting even closer to home with the deaths. Don’t hate me, because you just might with who is going to die.

Also:

**So far I’ve had ONE person say that Voldemort is out of character.  
**  
That review killed my soul. Seriously.  
 **  
Harry should get his eyes fixed.  
**  
I know it. You think with all that magic he’d be able to do that, but I’m not going to fix his eyes. It adds to his character, I think.  
 **  
Is this fic going to get any fluffy slash bunnies?  
**  
No, not really. If you can’t tell by now, this is a deep, angsty drama. There’s going to be more tragedy and angst than fluff, I can say that much. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be happy parts. Just… nothing fluffy, sorry.  
 **  
I’ve got more questions that you didn’t answer!**

Review this chapter and ask me them. I’ll add them to this. :) I guarantee I’ve forgotten some. I know I have. I’ve got so many reviews from all the fanfic sites that I can’t for the life of me keep track of them all, so if I left something unanswered or you have another question, I’ll be happy to add it to this.


	16. Damaged

  
Author's notes: this is a Harry/Voldemort fanfic. Don't like it, lump it.  


* * *

**A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to put this up—at least it felt long to me…. I worked really hard on the PLOT. And –gasp!- I waited until I had at least TWO chapters written before I uploaded! So you get two chappies today! Oh, and school has started as well, but I’ve hardly any classes, so that shouldn’t change much.**

**Ckret2: Merlin, I love your reviews. I thoroughly enjoy them and I’m supremely thrilled to have you as one of my readers. Many thanks for your awesome reviews, and keep ‘em coming!**

**That goes for the rest of your too! I love all of your reviews and without them I would melt into a puddle of nothingness!**

**NOTHINGNESS, I SAY!!!**

**Read now.  
**  
FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
 __  
I think im drowning  
Asphyxiating  
I wanna break the spell  
That you've created

_You're something beautiful_  
A contradiction  
I wanna play the game  
I want the friction 

_You will be_  
The death of me  
Yeah, you will be  
The death of me 

_Bury it_  
I won't let you bury it  
I won't let you smother it  
I won't let you murder it 

_Our time is running out_  
Our time is running out  
You can't push it underground  
You can't stop it screaming out 

_I wanted freedom_  
Bound and restricted  
I tried to give you up  
But I'm addicted 

_Now that you know I'm trapped_  
Sense of elation  
You'd never dream of breaking this fixation  
You will squeeze the life out of me 

_Bury it_  
I won't let you bury it  
I won't let you smother it  
I won't let you murder it 

_And our time is running out_  
And our time is running out  
You can't push it underground  
you can't stop it screaming out  
how did it come to this? 

_And you will suck the life out of me_

_Bury it_  
I won't let you bury it  
I won't let you smother it  
I won't let you murder it 

_And our time is running out_  
And our time is running out  
You can't push it underground  
You can't stop it screaming out 

_How did it come to this?_

_-Muse – Our Time is Running Out_  
  
FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
  
Featherlight Taction

Chapter 15- Damaged  
  
Severus Snape lingered in the cold of the snowy day, standing in the shadows of the large trees in the forest of Hogsmeade. It was night, and the dark sky echoed a blue tinge onto the blanket of snow that covered the ground, emanating an eerie hue into the late hours. There was no need to hide himself more than he was. Shop owners had long since gone to bed and the patrons of the town had also settled down for the night. Besides, he needed to be found, so hiding would do him no good.

He cupped his gloved hands around his mouth and blew into them, trying to warm his face a bit. Sadly, as soon as he removed his hands, the wet heat turned to an icy cold on his long nose and he felt the annoying throb of the low temperature mock him.

Shoving his hands into his cloak pockets, he ignored the discomfort and looked around in a slight impatience.

Where was she?

He rolled his eyes and shuffled his feet a bit to stay warm. Trust her to be late. She’d probably act like she was early and that he was merely crazy. Too bad she was the crazy one. Still, she was his contact on all things about the Order of the Phoenix, and he had no room to judge her eccentricities at the moment. Of anything, he was grateful to her for being wise enough through all of her idiosyncrasies to realize that he was still on the Order’s side, regardless of the fact that he was Dumbledore’s unwilling murderer.

He heard a crunch of snow from behind him and started, turning around.

“Why in the world are you coming from that direction?” Severus inquired gruffly, looking past her into the depths of the forest.

Luna Lovegood smiled broadly, her radish earrings shaking from where they dangled. She pulled her wool mittens on a bit more tightly around her pale hands and cocked her blonde head to the side. “I wanted to visit the thestrals first, of course,” she said, as if this fact was most obvious.

Severus shook his head, deciding not to broach the subject further. “News?” he asked finally, turning his dark gaze back to the empty streets of Hogsmeade, barely visible through the trees.

“Oh, there’s quite a lot of it, actually,” Luna replied airily, plopping down onto the ground suddenly, looking quite pleased with herself for no apparent reason.

Severus stared. “Isn’t that cold?”

“Cold?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

“You’re sitting in a pile of snow.”

Luna looked down at where she sat. “Yes, I am, Professor,” she said, sounding quite surprised. “Thank you for noticing.” She didn’t move to get up, so Severus merely shook his head and let it pass.

They had been meeting to exchange information for five months now. Severus had been in an obscure apothecary shop of the edge of Surrey, and Luna had happened to walk in just as he let his guard down to search for some rare ingredients. Apparently she was a regular shopper at Piddle Toadsworth’s Rare Apothecary. He should have known. She saw through his soft disillusionment quite easily, much to his surprise, and had stated in her normal airy fashion that she knew perfectly well that he had not wanted to kill the Headmaster in the least.

When he had later asked her how she was so sure that he was good, she had simply replied: “I just know these sort of things, you see.”

Yet, even after five long months, Severus was still not wholly used to her strange personality. The girl truly was a oddity, even in the wizarding world.

Severus sighed and leaned his back against a near tree, staring up into the sky. He didn’t bother asking Luna for news again. She would speak in a few moments anyway. One thing he had learned through all her quirks was that, though she exuded an air of patience, she could not stand silence.

“Neville and Ginny are planning on leaving the school soon,” she said quietly, following his gaze to the stars. “Many of the other DA members wish to go as well. I said I’d join them. I believe it’s time.”

“Can you get them to wait a bit longer?” Severus said, lowering his eyes to look at her. “It’s too soon.”  
”Well we’ve still got a bit of planning to do,” Luna answered, fingering one of her earrings absently. “It should take a few days. Maybe even a few weeks.” She chuckled sweetly. “But honestly, Mister Snape, it won’t take that long.”

Severus allowed himself a smirk. “That’s what you get when Gryffindors are running it all,” he said. “I’ll tell the Death Eaters that you’re uprising, but I’ll lead them in the wrong direction. It should be enough to jostle them a bit, if anything. Where will you be heading?”

“We’ll most likely find Harry,” Luna responded, shrugging with a smile. “After all, he is our leader.”

Severus nodded. “And what will you do when you find him?”

Luna was quiet for a moment, her eyes traveling once more up to the sky. “I think then we’ll fight, Sir.”

Severus nodded again. He felt almost like a muggle bobble-head, but it was all he could think to do. He would never admit it, but he was worried about them. They were just children; and, after all, he had taught them for years. He felt a sort of obligation to protect them.

“Don’t worry,” the young blonde said, not looking at him. “We’ll be fine. They’re strong.”

“I know,” Snape answered, flexing his hands in his deep pockets. “The Death Eaters are steering clear of Potter right now. He killed Bellatrix Lestrange. You might due to let Longbottom know of that.” Luna nodded, her soft face peaceful and understanding. The potions master continued, his voice heavy in the cold. “You should be safe once you reach him, but I can only guarantee so much safety of passage until that point.”

Luna stood and Severus looked down at her, his eyebrows raised. She rested her arms behind her back and walked in front of him, smiling up at him with sparkling eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It will be alright.”

Severus looked at her for a moment, his face blank. He forced his expression into an annoyed sneer and looked away. “Of course it will, you silly girl.”

“I like being silly,” Luna replied, spinning around in the snow. “Order members have been coming to the castle quite frequently now, you know. I think they’re planning something.”

This caught the wizard’s attention, and he focused his ebony eyes on her, listening.

“Of course, I think they might just be mourning,” she continued, stopping her twirling. “Tonks and Mr. Weasley have died. I’m sure you knew that already.”

Severus frowned. “I did not know of Arthur’s death.”

“I wasn’t there, but Ginny said that Harry had gone mad when it happened,” Luna said thoughtfully. “Said she’d never seen him like it.”

Snape felt a heavy feeling in his gut. Potter was bound to snap soon. Who wouldn’t in such circumstances? He forced the thoughts out of his mind. It wouldn’t do to pity the boy right now. “Do you know what they might be planning?” he asked.

Luna shook her head. “We’ve been focusing so much on the DA that it’s been rather difficult to do anything else. They are being very secretive, too. Neville said that we don’t stand a chance at eavesdropping without Fred and George’s help. I suggested we use severed billywig, but they disagreed.”

“Well that’s—wait… severed billywig?” Severus stopped short. “What would-? No, never mind. Don’t tell me.” He raised a hand to silence her as she opened her mouth to reply. It wasn’t worth it. “Look, this will be my last visit.”

This time it was Luna who was nodding. “Yes, I thought that might be the case,” she said lightly.

“Lucius Malfoy is your ally,” Severus said, eyeing her severely.

“Is he?” Luna asked, visibly surprised.

“Yes. Should he present himself to you, you have no need to fear him,” Severus said, pulling a hand from his pocket and reaching into his robes. “He will try to help you, but you cannot reveal his loyalties.” Luna nodded again, the bobble-head syndrome turning to her. “However, even with both of us trying to aid you, we can only do so much.” At this point, Severus withdrew three identical vials, each with shimmering golden liquid within them. “This is Felix Felacis potion. I’m sure you’re familiar with it?”

Luna’s eyes widened with delight. “Oh yes! We used a bit of it last year when… we fought! It worked wonders.”

Severus’ expression turned grave and he handed her the three vials. “When you begin your travels, use it, but do not waste it. This was all I could spare. The luck should hold true to all who consume a mere sip of it, so it should keep you safe.”  
Luna took the vials delicately, holding them with great care. “Thank you very much, Mister Snape,” she said happily. “This was very kind of you.”

Severus stepped back and looked away. “Just don’t be foolish,” he grumbled. “And Potter is no longer at Grimmauld Place. They did not return there after Christmas; but where they went, I do not know.”

Luna smiled and cradled the potions to her chest. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Snape said, waving his hand as if batting away her thanks so it wouldn’t touch him. “Your information has been most useful.”

“I was happy to help. It’s what Dumbledore would have wanted, after all,” she said, her sparkling eyes disturbingly similar to that of the late Headmaster’s.

“Yes.” Severus reached out a gloved hand and Luna met it with a mittened one. “Good luck.”

The witch giggled and shook his hand firmly. “Good luck to you too, Sir.”

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Harry poked at his eggs, staring at them rather disdainfully.

“What did the eggs do to you, Harry?” Ron asked, looking over at his best friend with a mixture of amusement and worry.

Harry glanced up at the redhead, obviously perplexed by the question. “Huh?”

Ron rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re glaring at them like they just sentenced you to the Dementor’s kiss.”

Harry chuckled and leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m just tired. Long night.”

“Well don’t apologize to me, mate,” Ron answered, pointing at Harry’s eggs. “Apologize to them.”

Harry grinned and leaned forward, plastering a dramatized serious expression on his features. Staring straight at the eggs, he said in a low voice: “I’m very sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Why on Earth are you apologizing to your breakfast, Harry?” Hermione inquired incredulously as she walked out of her room, her hair in a ponytail and some rolls of parchment under her arm.

Harry blushed and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms in a small pout. “Ron made me do it,” he mumbled.

“Did not! Ow!” Ron shrank down in his chair as Hermione swatted him with one of her rolls of parchment.

“Behave, you two. You’re like toddlers,” Hermione stated, trying to hold back a smile. “Really, now.”

“What are all those papers?” Harry asked, finally deeming his eggs worthy of consumption and scooping some onto his fork.

“Well this,” Hermione pulled open one of the rolls, displaying a blueprint, of sorts. “Is a sketch of what we saw of the Malfoy house when we were there before.”

Ron peered over at her work. “Wow, ‘Mione,” he grunted through a bite of sausage. “Thas wally good.”

“Oh, it’s just a sketch. I had very little to go on,” Hermione scoffed, pointing at her drawing of the entranceway of the manor. “We only saw the outside and the entrance, so we saw hardly anything. All we found out was our choices of where we could go when we start out.”

She moved her finger upwards and the boys leaned in for a closer view. “The stairs to the second floor are directly in front of the entrance door. They most likely lead to all the private rooms, such as bedrooms and offices.”

She waited for the boys to nod before she continued. “And here,” her finger slid to the right. “Was a big door. It was closed, so who knows what could be in there. Maybe it’s their dining hall or a ballroom or something.”

The boys snickered. “Figures Malfoy would have a ballroom,” Ron snorted.  
”It’s a mansion, Ronald,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. “Most mansions have large rooms like that. Anyway,” her finger moved just to the left of the staircase. “It looks like this is a hall. I didn’t really get a good look down it, but I think I saw a small doorway down to the right of it. And here,” she moved further left. “This was a wide doorway. I could see perfectly into the room. It was some sort of study. By the looks of it, it wasn’t connected to any other room, so it must be this portion sticking out on the outside.” She indicated the outside drawing of the mansion. “By the looks of the outside, the house goes really far back and to the right from where we were.”

“Merlin, Hermione,” Harry groaned, thoroughly surprised. “You’ve got a hell of a memory.”

Hermione leveled him with a strict glare. “It was necessary, Harry. This is serious. If we get this wrong, one of us could die this time.”

The two wizards frowned and looked down at their plates. Hermione lightened up a bit, sensing the tension. “Look, we just have to prepare more this time, and we have to do it right in case Voldemort is there again.”

Harry’s head shot up and his heart began to race. “He won’t be there, will he?” he asked, trying to hide his panic. “I mean, it was just a freak coincidence, right?”

Hermione looked at him strangely. “Well… it’s always possible Harry,” she said slowly, “I mean, Lucius Malfoy is one of his top Death Eaters.”

Harry calmed down and shut his eyes tightly. “Yeah, sorry. I… I just don’t want that to happen again.” His voice was gravelly, and Hermione mistook it for sadness. She reached out and patted his arm soothingly.

“We’ll do it right this time, Harry, I promise.”

Harry nodded and swallowed dryly.

“Besides, I have a plan,” Hermione said, pulling back and withdrawing a large bottle from within her parchments.

“Wh-where were you keeping that?” Ron spluttered, looking at her as if she’d just pulled a rabbit out of the papers and not just a bottle.

Hermione ignored him and sat the clear bottle on the table. It was three-quarters full of the strangest looking liquid Harry had ever laid eyes on. It was almost transparent, with shimmering wisps of silver floating throughout it. It looked a lot like the contents of a pensieve.

At Harry’s questioning look and Ron’s bemused inspection of how Hermione could have possibly hidden such a large bottle in those papers, Hermione poked the side of the bottle with her forefinger. “This is how we’ll get in.”

“How will that rotted firewhiskey get us into the manor?” Ron asked dubiously.

“It’s not rotted firewhiskey,” Hermione replied, affronted. “It’s potion. Invisibility potion, to be specific.”

Harry and Ron gaped. “How in the seven hells did you get a hold of invisibility potion?!” Harry gasped, gazing at the bottle reverently.

“I made it,” Hermione said bluntly, looking rather proud.

“Impossible!” Ron said. “Those ingredients are next to impossible to get! Where-?”

“Fleur,” Hermione cut him off. “Her father specializes in rare plants and natural magical substances. She got the ingredients for me.”

“When did you-?” Ron tried again, but Hermione cut him off once more.

“When we were at the Burrow,” she said. “Ginny helped me.”

“So that was the stench coming from her rooms, then!” Ron said, feeling a tad triumphant.

Hermione shook her head, her face paling. “No. That was one of Fred and George’s stink bombs.” She grimaced. “Nasty stuff. Smelled like that troll from first year.”

“So that stuff doesn’t smell?” Harry asked, gesturing towards the bottle.

“Not in the least,” Hermione said, looking at the swirling silver with her eyebrows raised. “No smell, no taste, nothing.”

“It’ll be a right bit better than drinking polyjuice, than,” Ron said, looking as if he’d just tasted the bottom of someone’s foot.

“Well there is one side-effect…” Hermione said, trailing off and looking away.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “And what is that, pray tell?”

“Well… it tends to have a bit of an… effect of body density,” Hermione muttered, her eyes not meeting Harry’s.

“Body density?” Harry repeated, not understanding.

“Well,” Hermione bit her lip. “One time a man using the invisibility potion was just standing on the middle of a floor and he kind of, sunk into it suddenly. His legs went through the floor. When they found him—when the potion finally wore off, that is—he was stuck waist deep in the floor.”

Ron’s eyes grew wide. “And what happened to the part of his body in the floor?” he asked timidly.

Hermione’s expression was the only answer they needed and all three at the table blanched.

“No way, nope, not doing it,” Harry said, standing up from his chair abruptly.  
”No wait!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from her chair as well. “It’s not that bad…”

“Not that bad?!” Harry cried, “He lost the bottom half of his body!”

“It’s only because he was standing still,” Hermione countered. “Look, after some research they found out that if you touch any inanimate object for too long, your body will lose its density at that point of contact and you will subsequently go through the item!”

“Could you say that in English, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, looking utterly perplexed.

“She means we can’t touch anything for very long at one time or we’ll go through it,” Harry answered, staring at the bottle of liquid. “I don’t know…”

“Well what else do you suggest?!” Hermione said, throwing her hands up into the air in exasperation. “All three of us can’t fit under the invisibility cloak and the polyjuice potion worked wonders last time!”

Harry frowned, looking down at his legs and imagining not having them any more. He shuddered. “We would be heard.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, we could cast silencing spells on ourselves. Granted, we wouldn’t be able to talk to each other, but it’s more important that we’re not heard.”

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked out the window into the snow-covered forest.

“You’re not actually considering this, are you Harry?” Ron asked, mortified.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry closed his eyes and considered their options. Hermione was right. The invisibility cloak was too small and polyjuice potion would not work. Was there any other choice? After all, he wasn’t particularly keen on losing his legs if he stood still for too long. He pulled off his glasses and sighed. They needed the horcruxes, and they shouldn’t let this risk stop them. No other risks had stopped them before, and those were for far less important things than the horcruxes.

Harry opened his jade eyes and turned them back to his friends. “We’ll do it.”

Ron groaned. “Great.”

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Draco leaned back into his bedroom’s armchair, staring out the window into the blue sky. He had been doing that a lot lately—staring at the sky. His blonde hair wasn’t slicked back like it normally was, and it fell into his face as he slouched in his chair bonelessly.

There was a sharp knock at his door and he glanced over to it, his silver eyes impassive. “Come in,” he muttered, turning back to the window.

The door opened and heavy footsteps fell onto his carpet. He knew before the man even reached his side that it was his father, but he spoke no greeting.

Lucius shared his son’s gaze for a moment, his gray eyes lingering on the clouds for a few moments before he spoke. “I have something to discuss with you,” he said finally.

Draco looked up at his father expectantly and the man moved over to sit on the edge of the teen’s bed, turning a serious eye upon him. The young Malfoy sat up straight. His father looked severe. What was this about?

“That locket I gave you, do you still wear it?” Lucius asked, looking down at Draco’s clothed chest.

Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. “That old thing? That’s what you wanted to talk about?” He looked disbelieving, as if his father was attempting to fool him.

Lucius nodded shortly. “Answer.”

“Yes, father,” Draco said, seeing that there was no room for further questioning. He reached into his shirt collar and tugged at an expensive chain, revealing a glimmering and heavy locket with an elaborate ‘S’ engraved on the front of it.

“Give it to me,” Lucius ordered softly, holding out a slender palm.

Thought Draco did not value the locket in any way, he was still hesitant to relinquish it so suddenly with no answers. His white fingers tightened around the chain and he looked at his father in question.

Lucius’ eyes narrowed. “Give it to me, Draco,” he repeated. Was that nervousness in his voice?

Draco knew he shouldn’t press his father’s patience, but he couldn’t control his curiosity. Was this locket important? “Why?” he asked, trying not to sound timid. Timidity was not the Malfoy way.

Lucius let his hand fall to his lap. He hadn’t expected Draco to question him. Perhaps the boy had been staring at the skies for too long. “Draco…”

Draco looked away, letting go of the chain and letting the locket fall to his chest with a thump. “Please, tell me,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to be out of the loop anymore. I… I want to-!” Draco looked up as he spoke, and his voice trailed off as he saw his father’s expression.

Lucius was torn. He had expected some sort of outburst from his son. The boy had been locked up in the manor for many months now, and though a war was raging in the outside world, he had not been allowed to partake in it. Only now did it hit Lucius fully how much Draco must have been suffering, knowing that so much was going on…

Lucius fixed the younger Malfoy with a calculating gaze. Draco stared at him fearfully, thinking he had said something wrong. With a grace that only he could muster, Lucius allowed his face to go calm, hiding the emotions behind an invisible mask.

“Son,” Draco’s eyes widened fractionally as Lucius spoke, “Where do your loyalties lie?” It was a dangerous question, and by the pallor of Draco’s face, it was obvious that he knew this.

“I…” Draco was unsure of his answer. His father was a Death Eater, was he not? Yet… though Lucius Malfoy was a very arrogant and proud man, Draco thought him to be a good man, nonetheless. Even so, what should he answer? His father followed the Dark Lord, willingly or not, and his answer could be the death of him. He didn’t think for a moment his own father would kill him, but if he told him that he was on Harry Potter’s side and the Dark Lord found out…

A small smile curled on Lucius’ lips and he let out a deep sigh. Draco blushed crimson. He had forgotten how poor of an Occlumens he was. He’d always been terrible at it. Not as bad as Severus said Potter was, granted.

Wait… Lucius was smiling. So that meant he was on Potter’s side, right? Draco was thoroughly confused now and he slapped his hand to his forehead, heart racing and mind whirring.

“Don’t worry,” Lucius said, his voice much calmer now. “It is safe to say, son, that you and I share the same loyalties.”

Draco’s head shot up. “But father-“

“I do what is necessary to protect my family,” Lucius said firmly, looking Draco straight in the eyes.

The young wizard felt a sudden surge of affection for Lucius, but he, of course, did not show it. Instead, he relaxed into his chair and ran the pad of his thumb over the locket. “So… what is this locket?” he asked, looking up at his father with hopeful eyes.

Lucius withdrew his wand and stood.

“First, I have to cast a few spells on you, Draco,” he said, trying to seem comforting as his son paled. “Don’t worry. It will just make it so that you cannot speak a word of what I tell you and that, though you will know what I say, you will not remember this conversation for a Legilimens to find.”

Draco untensed his shoulders. He trusted his father. But… was the truth of this locket really that serious? He swallowed hard and looked back up. “Okay.”

FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT

Voldemort stood at the edge of the wood floors of his library, lingering on the precipice of entering the stone hall, but not quite there. His hands supported him on either side of the door frame, and his slitted features were narrowed and creased. He was deep in thought.

He let out a light sigh through barely parted lips and blinked slowly, as if trying to calm himself.

He was currently thinking about something he had not dared to linger his mind upon in quite a long time.

His horcruxes.

It had seemed pointless before to even contemplate their safety, but as he had considered every option and ignored the growing feeling in his gut, the idea began to become obvious.

Potter obviously had a mission. Why else would he travel to Hogwarts and, even more, the Malfoy Manor? The boy was looking for something.

But he couldn’t possibly… no. How would he know!

Unless… Tom’s fists clenched against the wooden frame and he ground his teeth together in agitation.

That meddling, old fool!

He shoved himself away from the door and into the hall, his walk stiff and unforgiving as he swept down the corridor.

It was possible that Dumbledore could have told Harry about the horcruxes, but he was certain that even the old man hadn’t known the half of what Riddle had used for his objects; or where they were.

The Dark Lord pinched the sides of his scarlet eyes and shut them tightly, coming to a stop in the middle of the hall.

If Potter was searching for the horcruxes, was it possible that he had destroyed some already? Voldemort found that the idea did not anger him as much as it should. He frowned and picked up his pace once more, stopping at his quarters and walking inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He moved to sit in his bedside chair and found himself staring at a very familiar wall. These past few weeks, all he’d done is stare at that wall, and he was growing accustomed to its blank, unmoving form. At least the wall didn’t question him. Walls couldn’t be incompetent or cause him problems. He liked walls.

He rubbed his temples, forcing his mind back on more intelligible thoughts.

If Potter was indeed after his horcruxes, then he had to stop him. It was likely that the one at Hogwarts was already destroyed, so he had to focus on the ones whose fate he was more certain of. He began to list them all in his mind. Let’s see…

He knew full well that both his ring and diary had been destroyed, much to his discontent, so that left… On skeletal finger lifted. The cup. Two more fingers. Then there was the locket and Nagini, his loyal snake. If Harry had destroyed the diadem, those would be the ones he would focus on for now.

Nagini was perfectly safe within his manor. She never left, so her safety was irrelevant at the moment. The cup was with… oh yes… Bellatrix Lestrange had kept that one. Looks like he would have to retrieve that one quickly.

He doubted that Potter would have any desire to return the Lestrange estate any time soon, but the mansion was now unprotected, leaving it an open spot to steal something, should the boy try.

Two of his lean fingers lowered and he placed his index finger to his lip in thought, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair. The locket was with Lucius Malfoy. That was likely more safe than the cup at the moment, but obviously Potter had suspected he might hide something with the Malfoys. After all, he’d shown on their doorstep not long ago. He would likely try to return once more.

The wizard leaned back into his chair, his bald head hitting the leather softly. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a bit of relief. At least he wasn’t thinking about his recent dreams.

After a few moments, relief was replaced with a low growl.

Unfortunately, reminding yourself of something you’re not supposed to be thinking about—even if it’s just to realize that you’re not thinking about it—ends up taking your thoughts right to that particular subject.

Now, of course, the vision behind his eyelids played nothing but the scenes of his strolls in that hated room with a fireplace and his activities in that room with a certain messy haired teen.

Damn.

Why couldn’t he just keep his mind of his horcruxes?

He scowled at the ceiling.

This was pathetic.

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 **  
Wooo! Some really important and exciting things are gonna start happening now! A lot of things have been revealed in this chapter, neh? This was a kind of set-up chapter to prepare you for the crash bang boom that’s about to come.**

**CRASH BANG BOOM!**

**\--**

**Also, if you like Harry Potter, check out my site, Wizard Portus. We've got roleplays, games, contests, places to put your fanfiction, a gallery with over 2500 images, and even a huge HP encyclopedia on everything in the Potter-verse.**

**The address is: wizardportus(dot)co(dot)nr**


	17. Pursuit

  
Author's notes: HP/LV  


* * *

**A/N: The way I wrote this chapter is a lot different from the other chapters. A LOT happens in this chappie and it was so action-packed that it ended up coming out with a very different view of time and scenes. I like how it turned out. I hope you do too! After all, so much happens!!!  
**  
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 __  
Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you, for you  
Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you

_As years go by_  
I race the clock with you  
But if you died right now  
You know that I'd die to  
I'd die too 

_You remind me of the times_  
When I knew who I was  
But still the second hand will catch us  
Like it always does. 

_Well make the same mistakes_  
I'll Take the fall for you  
I hope you need this now  
cuz I know I still do. 

_Until the day I die_  
I'll spill my heart for you  
Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you 

_Should I bite my tongue_  
Until blood soaks my shirt?  
We'll never fall apart  
so Tell me why this hurts so much 

_My hands are at your throat_  
And I think I hate you  
But still we'll say, "remember when"  
Just like we always do, just like we always do 

_Until the day I die_  
I'll spill my heart for you  
Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you  
Yeah I'd spill my heart  
Yeah I'd spill my heart, for you 

_My hands are at your throat_  
And I think I hate you  
We made the same mistakes  
mistakes like friends do,  
my hands are at your throat  
and I think I hate you  
we made the same mistakes. 

_Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you, for you_

_Until the day I die_  
I'll spill my heart for you, for you  
Until the day I die  
I'll spill my heart for you 

_Until the day I die  
Until the day I die_

_-Story of the Year – Until the Day I Die_  
  
FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFT FTftFTftFTftFTftFTftFTFTftFTftFT  
  
Featherlight Taction

Chapter 16- Pursuit

The wind swept over the hills, blowing the fog in dancing circles of cold in the early morning. The dead trees swayed and creaked ominously around the mansion, a building that looked as abandoned as the forest around it. No animals dared make the forest here their home, for it bore no food or shelter anyway, and the sky was a deadly white, a warning of the snow to come.

The land was lifeless, except for one man. He was hooded and cloaked, and his thin, tall body walked briskly towards the dark mansion. Even as his hands were safe in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched together from the cold, he bore a sheer elegance and powerful grace that showed both knowledge and arrogance.

He stalked up to the abandoned home and glanced for a moment at the ajar door, his red eyes scanning the hall beyond it.

It was now devoid of the body that had been there the last time he had ventured to this place. For this, he was grateful. He had no desire to see the dead at the moment.

Stepping past the threshold, Lord Voldemort pulled back his hood and narrowed his eyes at the dankness of the place. This was worse than his manor. It was so desolate, and he chuckled at the thought that only a Lestrange would deem this place livable.

He had chosen to come alone to retrieve his horcrux for a very good reason. Though it would be difficult to move it, seeing as he could not be near it without severe physical pain, it was more beneficial to him to not let anyone know of its movement. He’d recently had a suspicion of a rat within his ranks, and he wasn’t referring to Wormtail when he thought this.

Therefore, it would be wiser if only he knew the horcrux’s location this time.

It would just be a bit more tiring, that’s all.

For the next twenty minutes, he found himself scouring the house; wandering in and out of its many empty rooms and growing more and more irritated by the moment. Suddenly, as he reached the end of the East wing, he felt his chest constrict uncomfortably and his heart rate began to increase. It was near.

His pace hurried, he continued as the tenseness grew. Soon, it was difficult for him to breath and small trickled of sweat made their way down his forehead. He had to find it quickly. This must be done in an expedient matter or the consequences would be most severe.

As he reached the last room in the hall, he knew that the cup was close. He entered the room, ignoring the surroundings and coming right up to an antique chest. It was covered in dust and seemingly untouched. The only thing strange about it was the lock, which was a polished gold. It had no keyhole or even, apparently a way to open it, and Tom withdrew his wand.

He tried the basic spells first, but they were of no use. At least Bellatrix had been the least bit more competent than he had guessed. His heart began to race more harshly and he dropped to his knees, whispering a tedious incantation as he pressed the tip of his wand to the metal. Within seconds, the lock dissolved away in a cloud of glittering golden sparks.

With a flick of his wand, the lid flew open. His eyes narrowed to avoid the flying dust, and his heart slowed minutely from mere relief. There, within the middle of the large chest, sat Hufflepuff’s cup.

Instead of picking it up, he cast a hovering charm and walked, much more slowly, out of the room. The cup followed silently behind his limping steps as his vision began to blur and he lost a certain sense of balance. His head was pounding as he reached the grounds and head for the anti-apparition wards. Halfway across the mile to reach the end of the wards, he felt his magic slip and heard the cup clang to the dirt.

For a moment, the Dark Lord just stood there, as if he could not believe that he, of all people, could no longer cast a valid levitation spell. Painfully, he turned around as gazed with wide eyes at the offending object.

Realizing his only option, his set his thoroughly whitened face into a furious scowl.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he hissed, dragging his feet over to the fallen horcrux. With a grimace, he leaned over and grasped the slim handle of the cup, picking it up with what seemed to be extreme difficulty.

He ignored the searing heat that engulfed his hand and forced his remaining strength into walking as he reached the end of the wards.

Finally, with his last bit of saved magic, the Dark Lord disapparated back to his manor and launched himself into a dark, dungeon-like room at a far end of his manor. Casting the cup into a dark, metal closet, he slammed the door shut and muttered one final incantation, sealing the door shut.

Then, he collapsed to the floor.

Perhaps it wasn’t the most brilliant idea to do that alone.

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Ginny and Neville were sitting together in the Great Hall, along with Luna, Dean, Seamus, Cho, and numerous other DA members. They knew it was a bit silly to gather together in such a public area, but if they were questioned, they could just say that they were debating the next Quidditch match.

Not that anyone would actually believe that…

Neville leaned over to Ginny and the rest of the group leaned in as well to hear what he was whispering. It was quite a spectacle to see, honestly—twenty or so students all leaning in at a small section of the Gryffindor table. It was like a muggle football huddle.

“So how are we going to find them?” Neville asked, staring at Ginny disbelievingly. “You said that your mum wrote you and told you that they weren’t at the Order place anymore…”

Ginny exchanged looks with Luna and blushed when she noticed twenty separate pairs of eyes on her. “I think Hermione still has her coin from way back when,” Ginny said quietly. “You know, these.” She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a fake galleon. It was the method of communication that Dumbledore’s Arm had used since fifth year. “I’m going to try to contact her through it. Hopefully she’ll see and we’ll find out where they are, but I don’t know.”

“What if she doesn’t have a coin?” Seamus inquired from across the table. “There’s no guarantee she even has it anymore.”

“I know that,” Ginny replied agitatedly. It was rather tiresome being looked to like the leader of the whole thing. It’s not like she had wanted to be the one who figured everything out. “If that doesn’t work, then…” she blushed crimson and muttered the last bit in a rush of breath. “IdunnothecoinwasallIcouldthinkof.”

Her peers stared at her in shock. “That’s all you could come up with?!” Lavender exclaimed, throwing her hands to her face in over-dramatized horror.

“Well I’m not some super… person!” Ginny retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. “I don’t see why I have to come up with the whole bloody plan!”

Neville gulped and tentatively placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “Well, listen, guys,” he said softly, beginning to sweat when all eyes were turned to him. “I think the coin is a good idea. We’ll try that tonight, ok? In the meantime, let’s all of us try to think of some other ways we could possibly find them. Everyone try and think of something by our meeting tonight. Don’t worry, we’ll find them. I know it.”

The teens seemed satisfied with this encouragement and they muttered to each other in agreement, nodding back and forth. One by one, they said their goodbyes to the Gryffindors and, strangely, Luna as they walked back to their own tables.

Ginny and Neville turned to Luna and looked at her strangely.

She smiled happily back at them and reached across the table to grab some toast, spreading some strawberry jam over it with a dazed look.

“Um…. Luna?” Neville asked.

“Hm?” she asked, taking a bite out of her toast and looking utterly giddy.

“Aren’t you going to go back to the Ravenclaw table?” the boy asked sheepishly.

“Why in the world would I do that?” the blonde inquired curiously, peering over at the mousy teen.

“Uh, well, that is, no reason! Of course! Yes!” Neville stuttered, turning to his plate quickly. Ginny was now eyeing him with the same bemused look as she had regarded Luna with, scooting away from him a bit.

Luna shrugged him off and turned back to her toast, humming as she did so.

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Harry was in his room, staring solemnly out of the frost-nipped window into the snow-covered forest, elbows propped up on the windowsill and palms supporting his tired head. His pink lips were pressed into a thin line and his exhales of breath were sharp and forced. His glasses had been set aside on the sill, seeing as they only steamed up when he breathed so close to the window. The fingers on his right hand flexed and he blinked.

They were about to go to the Malfoys’ house once more, and, somehow, he found himself worrying more about whether or not Voldemort would be there than if they would find the horcrux they sought.

He sighed, fogging over the window in front of his face until he could only see vague distortions of the white trees outside. Pushing himself away from the window, he grabbed his glasses and started out towards the dining room.

Ron thought that Voldemort’s being at the Malfoy manor had only been a coincidence. Harry was fairly certain he was right, but he still had that nagging feeling at the end of his gut. Problem was, he couldn’t exactly identify what that feeling was.

Putting his glasses back on and turning around the hall corner, he let his eyes focus on the pair that were sitting at the wood table.

“Oh come on, ‘Mione!” Ron groaned, “We’ve gone over this a thousand times!”

Said witch stuck her hands on her hips indignantly and gave Ron an annoyed look. “Well this is very serious! If you could just remember it all-“

“I remember it just fine!” Ron snapped, looking offended. “I’m not a bloody toddler.”

Hermione threw her hands up in the air and let out a growl. Ron shrunk back in his seat.

“Hermione,” Harry said from across the room. The two looked up. They hadn’t known he was there. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We’ve planned thoroughly this time. It won’t go wrong.”

Hermione slouched, but said nothing. After a moment of contemplative silence, the three stood and picked up their things, walking outside into the snow.

“We’ll apparate into the forest beside the manor,” Hermione said, staring into the trees as she checked her pocket for the potion vials. “When we get there, we’ll take the potions and cast the silencing charms around ourselves. Remember, we won’t be able to talk to each other or see each other, and whatever you do, don’t touch anything for too long. If you find the horcrux, keep switching hands, but don’t keep it in the same hand.”

The boys nodded. “And we cast revellium on ourselves to counteract the potion, right?” Ron asked, turned towards the other two with a nervous expression.

“Yes, it will take the potion out of your system,” Hermione replied, nodding proudly at Ron’s spell retention.

Silently, the three took each others’ arms and took a deep breath before they apparated.

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Draco paced back and forth in the hall outside his room, arms hanging behind his back as his gray slacks and black silk shirt bounced around his lean form. His hair was disheveled and a lock of gold fell into his face. He pushed it back with a thin hand, his eyes flickering up to the grandfather clock at the end of the hall. His parents had left the house earlier that afternoon to conduct Ministry business in some sort of court trial, leaving him alone and panicking in the manor, his mind whirling with all his father had told him.

A shaky hand ascended, stopping at his chest and grasping the heavy locket through the fabric. He could feel the ‘S’ digging into his palm and his heart began to pound.

He knew what he had to do, but how… that was something else entirely.

He felt lightheaded for a moment and suppressed a shiver from running down his spine.

Why did he feel like something was about to happen?

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The trio appeared in the middle of a thick forest and all three promptly fell onto their faces. They had apparated on top of a log, apparently, and it hadn’t welcomed their stepping on it. Sitting up and pulling some leaves out of his hair, Harry glared at the offending wood and went to help Ron and Hermione up.

“Well that was fun,” Ron grumbled sarcastically.

Hermione brushed off her robes and withdrew the potion vials, walking ahead of them to the edge of the forest and looking down the hill to the manor. It stood majestically in the grass, unknowing, seemingly, of their presence. She swallowed and closed her eyes to calm herself, turning back to her companions.

“This is it,” Harry stated. “Don’t forget. They could have the cup or the locket, but check out anything that looks suspicious. And be careful, guys.”

The other two smiled weakly at him and Hermione handed out the separate vials.

Ron grimaced at it and held it up in front of his face to inspect its shimmering contents. “I’m getting bloody sick of these potions,” he muttered, making a face.

Harry shrugged and uncorked the glass. “Bottoms up,” he said grimly, downing the contents.

Suddenly, a sweeping sensation overtook him, like he’d just been thrown off balance, and he stumbled. It felt as if his entire body had just run cold, and his very blood turned to rivers of ice. The sensation fell like a wave over his whole body, and then it was gone. His eyes blinked open and he squinted at the brightness of the sun. He couldn’t see Ron and Hermione anywhere, and when he looked down, he couldn’t see himself either. He bent his neck and looked straight through his own stomach. The potion was flawless. Not a single imperfection marred the air that he now resembled. Hermione really was talented.

“Silencing charms,” he heard Hermione say from somewhere to his right. He nodded, but quickly stopped, realizing she couldn’t see him anyway.

Three voices mumbled the spells and soon the only sounds to be heard were the chirping of birds overhead. Steeling himself, Harry started towards the manor, stomach churning with anticipation.

When they reached the manor…. or… at least, Harry _thought_ all three of them reached it at the same time, they edged the front door open and peered inside. Hearing no sounds and seeing no one running towards the eerily moving object, Harry pushed it open enough to squeeze through and waited until the invisible hands of one of his friends pushed the door close quietly. They had already decided their routes.

Hermione would go to the left, first checking the study and then the passage to left of the stairs. Ron would go upstairs and inspect the rooms. Harry was to go through the doors to their right and discover the room hidden behind the tall oak.

If anything went wrong or one of them found the horcrux, all they had to do was cast a communication spell. It would cause whoever the spell targeted to feel a magical pull, and they would all meet back by the forest.

Harry adjusted his glasses and wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. Bracing himself for any possibility, he walked up to the huge doors and pushed them open slowly, flinching as the door creaked slightly. Freezing, he glanced through the crack in the door and then behind him, unmoving for five painful seconds as he listened for any movement. He heard none and relaxed a bit, being much more careful as he pushed the door open enough to get through. Sliding in the room, he closed the door behind him before he inspected his surroundings. Hermione had been right; it was a ballroom.

Gleaming mahogany floors made up the huge room. Tables with what were most likely expensive antiques lined the room. To the right was a huge window that viewed the outside hills. To the left was a glass wall, with pure gold trim and doors that led out to what looked like an indoor garden. It was truly a beautiful sight, but Harry had no time to marvel at the Malfoys’ elegant taste.

Bringing his thoughts back in order, Harry scanned the room, spotting a chest on the opposite side. Moving towards it, he admired the elegant carvings upon its heavy surface. Slowly, and with a dreadful anxiousness, he lifted the lid. His heart sank. It help cups, but not the one he was looking for. Twelve sparkling, crystal drinking glasses were placed neatly inside its velvet interior. He sighed with disappointment.

His heart stopped when he heard a familiar creak of the door behind him and he whirled around, the lid of the chest snapping shut with a crack.

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Ron crept up the stairs, his freckled face glistening with a nervous sweat. Or, at least if would have been glistening, if for the fact that he currently had no appearance at all, due to invisibility.

When he reached the upstairs hall, he stopped dead. Draco Malfoy was currently pacing up and down the hall, his face twisted in concentration and his steps anxious and quick. What was his deal?

Ron suddenly had the feeling that he could be seen, and he stepped quickly into the nearest doorway just as a creak sounded from downstairs. His gaze shot to the stairs and Draco immediately stopped his pacing. Together, although unknowingly to the young Malfoy, they listened intently.

When the blonde began to move again, Ron assumed that he was merely continuing his pacing, so he was naturally surprised when, instead, the other teen appeared beside him. Ron let out a shout of surprise, clapping his hands over his mouth right afterwards. He then blushed crimson, remembering the silencing charm. Draco merely stood there for a moment, staring down the stairs.

Ron panicked. Had that sound been one of his friends? If they were caught…

He had no time to finish that thought, as Draco began jogging down the stairs. Ron stepped back out into the hall and leaned his right palm against the wall as he leaned forward in the stairwell to listen. If Draco found someone, he would hear it.

Soon enough, another creak was heard and Ron knew that Malfoy had just opened the same door that had been opened moments before. For a few moments, there was silence, and then there was a shouting of spells and a loud thump, then some shouts, but Ron heard no more than that.

Instead, he turned slowly, as if time itself had paused, as he began to fall sideways. How was he falling? Wasn’t he leaning against the wall?

Horror struck him with a sickening realization. He could no longer feel his hand or wrist. Looking to his side, he saw nothing, but as his arm began to grow numb, bit by bit, and he started to lose his balance and fall to the wall, he knew what had happened.

With the utmost fear, he dropped the silencing spell and whispered, “R-revellium.”

And then, he screamed.

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Harry mentally cursed himself for dropping the lid of the chest as he turned around to see Draco Malfoy walking into the room with a confused look on his face.

He began to edge towards the glass wall as the blonde searched the room unseeingly. “Hello?” he asked hesitantly.  
Harry edged further, but he stopped as soon as Draco uttered his next word. “…Potter?”

Harry swung wide eyes to look at his rival. How could he possibly know?

Draco took a step into the room and drew his wand. This knocked Harry out of his trance and he began to dash towards the door. Unfortunately, his haste made him forget to check his surroundings, and he tripped on a rug at the end of the room, falling onto his side and kicking up a side of the carpet. His wand flew out of his hand and skidded across the rug, now visible.

Draco spun to the spot and, seeing the upturned rug, shouted, “Revellium!” It hit Harry in the shoulder, and he cried out in pain, letting the silencing spell drop as he did so. Immediately, his veins began to burn icily again and he felt like his own blood was being pulled from his body. When he opened his eyes, he could see his own feet and he pushed himself up on an elbow.

Emerald eyes crawled upwards and met with gray. Draco’s expression was not what Harry expected. He still had his wand on Harry, but he looked torn, his free hand lingering above his chest like he was about to do something.

Harry felt a ripple of anger and neurosis thrill through his system. No. He would not be done in by Draco Malfoy! He had to find the horcrux, and that snarky ferret would not stop him!

Within a second, Harry was diving for his wand. He grabbed it and landed on his knees, twisting around towards Malfoy with a curse on his lips.

“Wait!”

Harry hesitated.

“Wait, please!” Draco said, his hands in front of him in a stopping gesture. Harry stared on in bewilderment as the other ten dropped his wand carelessly, letting it clatter to the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” Harry growled, his expression untrusting.

Draco frowned and reached into his shirt. “I know why you’re here,” he said quietly.

Harry stood and lowered his wand slightly. “What are you on about?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. He gasped and his eyes widened as Draco pulled an item free from the confines of his shirt and undid the chain, holding it out for Harry to see.

It was the locket.

The horcrux.

Harry gaped, the raised his wand again. “Give it to me, Malfoy,” he said lowly.

Draco’s expression turned blank and he straightened, as if he had remembered his composure only then. Harry tensed, ready for an attack. Instead, the platinum blonde swung the chain and tossed the locket across the room to Harry.

Harry caught it with his left and was once more gaping in shock. “I don’t understand.” Could this be a trick?

Draco sneered. “Don’t be a fool, Potter,” he said, “I’ve always been on your side.”

Harry’s hands clasped tightly around the horcrux and he stared at Draco as if he’d never seen him before. Before he could say anything, Draco winced and his hand shot to his left arm. Wrenching down his sleeve, he exposed the Dark mark to the room. It was writhing on his skin and a look of panic overtook the boy’s features.

“Potter, you’ve got to get out of her!” he shouted, “Now!”

“What? Why?” Harry had no desire to stay, but this turn of events was still unsettling. What was going on now?

“The Dark Lord’s coming!” Draco yelled, “Get out! Get out now!”

Harry’s heart began to throttle his ribcage. Yet, it was not fear that struck him so strongly, but anxiety. “I-I can’t!” he stammered, his eyes swinging to the right just as he heard a terrible scream echo throughout the house.

The two boys turned and ran to the door, shoving it open. The screaming was coming from upstairs, and it was soon joined by another.

It was Hermione’s shriek that joined the bloodcurdling cries that came from above. And she cried a name that set Harry’s blood naturally cold this time.

“Ron!!!”

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The Dark Lord had been sitting in his quarters when the feeling hit him. It was a deep, determined anger and frustration that was not his own. He blinked and his vision changed to see the face of Draco Malfoy as wand swung out in front of him and he felt Harry about to utter a curse.

The vision stopped.

Voldemort groaned and stood. He had been hoping to rest a bit before he had gone to Malfoy manor, but it looked like Potter was ahead of him on this one.

He was still very weak, but he had recovered enough from the morning’s activities to handle this, he supposed. Throwing on his cloak and boots, he exited his quarters and started towards the entranceway.

“Wormtail!” he barked.

The pudgy little man appeared from around one of the corners and he stumbled over to Tom nervously. Riddle wrenched the man’s left arm from his side and pressed his finger to it, concentrating on the Malfoys to inform them that he would be arriving.

“Master?” Pettigrew inquired as the Dark Lord threw his arm away and began walking swiftly to the apparation wards.

Tom ignored him and hurried to his destination, wand already drawn.

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Lucius had trained himself over many years to not visibly allow the pain of his Dark Mark to effect him. However, he almost made an exception from his seat in the Ministry courtroom as it began to twist on his flesh. He turned to his wife and knew she had felt it as well, and simultaneously, they looked down at their arms. It wasn’t a summons, but a warning.

Lucius’ eyes widened ever so slightly. The Dark Lord was going to Malfoy manor.

Draco.

Turning to Narcissa, he leaned to her and whispered, “I will handle this.”  
She nodded apprehensively and he stood, announcing his departure to the room.

By the time Lucius made it to a point where he was able to disapparate, a good fifteen minutes had passed since the warning. His heart pounding, he ran into the manor. The door was already ajar, and there was upset shouting coming from upstairs.

Drawing his wand, Lucius sprinted up the stairs only to stumble to a horrified stop as he looked at the scene before him.

Draco and Hermione Granger were kneeling over a body covered in blood. As he looked closer, he recognized that person as Ronald Weasley, and the boy was still alive, his breathing coming in short pants and his eyes wide and blank. He looked down at his feet when he felt them slide a little. The floor was covered in blood and the locket that he had given Draco was in the middle of the puddle, speckled with red.

“What’s happened?” he asked hoarsely, thrown by the sight.

Two heads shot up to meet his gaze and he was hit by another tremor of worry as he saw their expressions. The entire right side of Draco’s face was smeared in blood, but he did not look injured; only terribly frightened. Granger was sobbing and there was an angry red welt on the side of her cheek.

“He’s in shock,” Draco choked, looking back down at the Weasley boy. “His arm…”

Lucius’ son did not need to finish his sentence, for Lucius saw it himself. With a sickened shock, his eyes followed Ron’s right, blood-splattered shoulder down to his elbow. He would have continued, but that’s where the arm ended. All that was left was a half-healed stump that Hermione had apparently been trying to heal.

Kneeling down beside the shivering boy, he gently touched Hermione’s shoulder. She jumped and began to cry harder.

“Move aside,” he said firmly. She complied, brainlessly, and continued to shake as much as her fallen comrade. Lucius began to mutter an advanced incantation, and Ron’s arm began to seal up. When he was finished, he surveyed the amount of blood around them. There was a lot, and upon observing the paleness of the Weasley’s complexion, he had definitely lost a dangerous amount.

“I have potions fro the pain and blood loss,” Lucius said, hiding the stress within his elegant voice. “They are in my stores downstairs. Draco.”

The stunned boy nodded and started running down the stairs, leaving tracks of crimson blood where he stepped.

Lucius turned towards the brown haired witch. She had calmed herself somewhat at seeing Ron’s arm heal. She was still too shocked to question Lucius’ actions, and for the moment, he was grateful for that. Instead, he spoke to her of something far more important. “Where is Potter?” he asked.

The girl looked up, her brown eyes wide and lips trembling. “He…” she looked lost for a moment, and then said. Her sobs renewed. “Voldemort took him!” she cried, burying her face in her hands.

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Harry and Draco ran as fast as their legs would allow them to the screams, only becoming more terrified as the shouts died down to only Hermione’s. The dashed up the stairs as the front door opened behind them. A stunning spell flew past Harry’s earn and the pair ran faster.

What they saw when they reached the top of the stairs stopped them in their tracks. Hermione was huddled on the floor with a shaking Ron. Blood covered them both and it was slowly seeping out over the floor.

Harry didn’t have time to think as another jet of light sped towards him and he jumped to the side. The spell hit the side of Hermione’s cheek and she cried out in pain.

“Don’t run from me, potter!” came a familiar voice.

In a quick decision, Harry grabbed Draco’s arm and pushed him the rest of the way up the stairs. The blonde fell face first into the blood, the right half of his face sliding through it before he could catch himself.

Another spell came burning pat and Harry turned and darted down the stairs, Hermione’s shouts dying out behind him. He saw the angry face of Voldemort at the bottom of the steps, and he unthinkingly launched himself towards the man, grabbing his clothed arm.

Voldemort saw Harry jump at him and braced himself, his red eyes meeting green as the boy latched onto his arm. This was the perfect opportunity, and he would take it.

As he and Harry fell back from the force of the tackle, Voldemort allowed his face a small smirk before there was a loud crack, and they disappeared.

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Lucius stood quickly and began down the stairs. He met Draco halfway. The teen’s hands were filled with all sorts of potions and he looked utterly panicked. Lucius calmed him a bit by laying a heavy hand on his shoulder and looking into mirroring gray eyes. “Calm down. You have done well,” he said smoothly, giving his son a small smile. “It’s this one and… this one,” he said, looking down at the bottles in Draco’s arms and pointing at the correct ones. “Give them to him now, wait five minutes, and leave.”

Draco’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Leave? I don’t understand.”

“You are to go with those two to wherever they came from,” Lucius said firmly, his eyes never leaving Draco’s. “The Dark Lord knows that you tried to help them. He ill not be forgiving in this case. You must go into hiding with them. I have to find Severus. We’ll take care of Potter.”

Draco stared at Lucius for a minute, his eyes uncertain, but his father gave him a light squeeze on the shoulder and he nodded. “Ok…okay,” he said hesitantly.

Lucius nodded and gave one last small smile. “Be safe,” he said before he turned to go. Once more, Draco nodded, and then turned their separate ways.

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Harry had little time to think as they reappeared in a strange hall. He was dragged before he could say a word down a hall and into a dark room. Voldemort threw him against a stone wall and he fell to the ground, clutching his wand desperately.

The room was cold and had a dungeon-like atmosphere. There were flickering torches on either side of the door and a dark staircase to his left. He didn’t even get a moment to wonder where the staircase led before Voldemort shot another spell at him, an angry scowl on his face.

Harry rolled away from the wall and cast a body-bind at the other man, who blocked it easily and sent three hexes his way. Harry dodged the first two, but the third hit him in the arm and he gasped as he felt his shirt slice open along with his flesh.

They kept up this tango for a good ten minutes, shooting curses and jinxes back and forth at each other like tennis players.

“Stupefy!” Harry shouted breathlessly, as he ran back to the wall he had come from. Voldemort’s shield came up just in time and Harry was perplexed. Was Voldemort panting? But they’d done hardly anything!

“Levicorpus!” Harry cried, his messy hair brushing across his scar and reminding him of the burning pain that it held.

The reptilian man dodged the spell and shot off another one just as Harry did the same. The spells hit in the middle of the room, lighting it up for an instant before Harry felt his wand jerk itself out of his hand and fly into the darkness. He looked up just in time to see that Voldemort’s had done the same. Both their spells had backfired.

They stared each other down, neither willing to make the first move.

Then, Tom slouched a bit before stopping himself. Harry’s eyes widened. The Dark Lord was obviously very weak. This was his opening.

He glanced around in the shadows for his wand, but the torches did nothing to aid his search, and he gave up.

Turning back to Voldemort, his eyes met for the thousandth time with ruby, and he felt a ripping tide of rage overwhelm him. Running forward, he reached out and wrapped his hands around the man’s long throat.

Tom crashed into the wall in an instant, but he did not look the least bit surprised as Harry’s hands tightened around his throat. He didn’t even make a move to stop him. Instead, he just stared at him as the boy started to tremble.

Harry’s hands began to shake as he stared at the face in front of him. How could he have been so stupid? He had touched the man’s skin, and now the dark eyes of Tom Riddle were staring back at him. He tried to tighten his grip, but he just couldn’t.

If it had been that snake-like face that he was looking at now, maybe he could have done it. Maybe he could have gone through with it. But not with this face. Not with this face looking at him.

Harry felt sick and he hated himself as his hands began to loosen. Voldemort’s face was unreadable, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of it.

“Yes,” the teen croaked quietly, his voice breaking. Tom’s eyes flickered into focus. “Yes,” Harry repeated, his eyes looking back into Riddle’s. “I have dreamt of a room with a fireplace.” His fingers were loosened completely now, and only his fingertips rested against the pale skin.

Voldemort’s expression changed briefly, and Harry felt his last bit of control break. Through all his self-loathing and doubt, he pressed his lips forward onto the older man’s furiously, throwing all of the pent up emotions that had encumbered him since that day in the Hogwarts courtyard. He finally allowed himself to feel the other lips against his and he grew dizzy.

Without warning, Tom gripped one hand on the back of Harry’s neck and the other on the young wizard’s arm, pushing him away and spinning them both around so that now it was Harry who was crushed against the wall. Tom restored the kiss with a fervor, and this time, Harry returned it just as desperately.

Their lips wrestled with one another, and when Tom’s tongue dipped into his mouth, Harry tensed up and groaned. The battle came into their mouths and Harry felt his hands move of their own accord. The slid down the older wizard’s chest and he fumbled with the buttons, wanting to feel more skin. He unbuttoned the top few and slipped his hands onto the flesh of the man’s collarbone.

Tom couldn’t restrain a soft moan when Harry’s hands slid into the top of his shirt, and he let his own fingers trace the contours of Harry’s face before they entangled themselves in the boy’s raven hair. He opened his eyes to see that Harry’s were shut tightly, and he pressed his tongue deeper into the teen’s mouth, determined to feel every bit of it.

When Harry’s hands trailed up to the Dark Lord’s face, Tom broke of the kiss involuntarily and stood stock still, their foreheads together, and Harry’s delicate fingers began to feel every detail of his face.

Harry’s eyes were open now, however half-lidded, and he was staring curiously into Tom’s eyes. The pads of his thumbs traced the man’s high cheekbones and then ran over his forehead, shifting past his ears and dropping back down to his neck.

Riddle’s eyes had fallen close through this, and he took in a deep breath, leaning forward to capture Harry’s lips in one last kiss. This time it was tender and soft, and he pulled away after it, leaving only his right hand resting on the side of Harry’s neck.

The jade-eyed wizard’s hands fell away and he shut his eyes with a sigh when Voldemort let his palm cup Harry’s cheek for a moment.

When the Dark Lord finally pulled his arm away, Harry kept his eyes closed.

“When you go out the door, turn left,” Tom said softly, his whisper barely audible even in the silence of the room. “The opening at the end of the hall is where the wards drop. You may apparate there. I suggest you do so quickly, lest one of my Death Eaters see you.”

Harry leaned against the wall still, his body unable to move. Even now, his eyes remained closed. “I...” he managed to say lamely, his hoarse voice trailing off.

“Go, Harry,” Voldemort said roughly. Harry heard the rustle of fabric and listened quietly as Tom descended the stairs at the back of the room. He waited until he could no longer hear him before he opened his eyes, and then, he simply stared at the wall.

His brain refused to work, and though he wanted more than anything to think, he could do no such thing at the moment; so he stepped away from the wall, with difficulty, and opened the door to the room, not looking back.

Without any more thoughts, he turned left and ran.

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 **  
You have no clue how much I enjoyed writing this chapter.**

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